Psychic Struggles
by SpiderFangWolverine123
Summary: Growing up as a psychic in a world where monsters are common knowledge has never been easy for 14 year old Sam. He's been shipped from hunter to hunter, always watched. When he meets John, Mary, and their son Dean, he feels like he's finally found a family. However, someone has a different plan for him. Someone with a heart full of vengeance, and a thirst for revenge. AU world.
1. Homecoming

**Yay! It's here! I decided to post this early, because it was a clear winner among all who voted. If you did vote for this story, I hope it lives up to your expectations. If you voted for another story, I'm sorry I couldn't write it this time, but I'll need one to write after this one. : ) If you didn't vote at all, I hope you like this story anyway. Enjoy!**

**Just FYI:**

**Dean - 18**

**Sam - 14**

* * *

**Chapter One - Homecoming**

Sam stared out of the car window, his forehead pressed against the cool glass. He watched as the houses sped by, the maze of sidewalks and yards blurring into a hazy mess.

Sam shifted in his seat, his arms growing tired from their awkward position. His wrists were bound by handcuffs, which in turn were fastened to the chair in front of him. He sat in the backseat of an SUV, while his social worker, Mr. Pearson, drove in front.

Sam glanced up at the man, feeling hot animosity growing in his chest as he looked at him. As if he could feel Sam gazing at him, Mr. Pearson glanced into the rearview mirror, catching Sam's eyes for a split second. Sam darted his eyes away, watching the outside landscape again.

"Problem, Sam?" Mr. Pearson asked. He spoke in a voice laced with false sympathy. Sam knew his concern was fake. Everything about the man was fake. He was practically a robot, only worried about his job, and keeping Sam in line. Which hadn't worked so far.

Sam stayed silent, not wanting to incite another verbal beatdown. He'd had enough of those while driving away from the Bensen's house. And away from the Freemont's house. And the Emile's house. And the Denellis' house.

In total, Sam had spent his life in a grand total of seven different Care homes. Nobody seemed to want him. He wasn't an easy charge. He didn't listen. Didn't even try.

"Sam, this might be your last chance." Mr. Pearson warned. "After this, you'll have to go to a camp. No one wants to take in a psychic who's been through eight homes." _No one really wants a psychic at all. _The words were unspoken, but Sam could hear them as easily as verbalized words.

He wasn't telepathic. Though he had met another like himself who'd had that specific talent. No, he'd just heard the words before. People didn't want psychics. They didn't want the responsibility of watching over them. They only wanted the money.

Sam didn't take Mr. Pearson's words too seriously. He'd heard the speech before. It was just in an effort to make him behave, for once. But it wasn't going to work. It never had before.

* * *

"Are they here yet?" Mary asked anxiously. She looked over at the digital clock on her fireplace mantel. They were scheduled to be there twenty minutes before.

John crossed the room and wrapped his arms around his wife. "Stop worrying, Mary." He murmured. "Everything will be fine." Gently, he placed a kiss on her lips.

"Gross," Dean muttered as he entered the room, holding his car keys. "If I wanted to be scarred for life, I'd enter a dogfight." He grabbed his leather jacket and moved towards the door.

Mary rushed over to stand in front of him. She stopped him, placing a hand firmly on his chest. "Hold it, Dean. You agreed to be here when Sam arrived."

Dean sighed. "Mom, I know this is a big deal for you, but that doesn't mean that I have to pretend to be all excited that we have to be this stupid kids bodyguard until he gets shipped off to some prison camp." Dean said bitterly. "I just want to be left out of it."

Mary's shoulders relaxed, her small form sagging. "Dean, this is about finding Sam a home. Not about guarding him."

"That's what the stupid brochure said." Dean mumbled. "Psychics are an extreme danger to the public, and should be guarded as such." He quoted.

John, silent up until this point, walked over to join his wife.

"Son, listen to your mother." John ordered. "We're not in this for the money, we're in this to help the boy."

"Please, Dean. Stay here. It might be nice for him to see someone around his age." Mary reasoned. She gazed intently into her son's eyes, recognizing the beginnings of resignation in them.

Dean took a step back, avoiding his parent's eyes. "How old is this kid, anyway?" Dean asked evasively, to stall for time.

"He's fourteen." John informed. Dean snorted in response.

"And what? You think he's going to automatically trust me because I'm not as old as you?" Dean snapped.

"Dean." Mary said in a warning voice.

Dean sighed, and ran a hand over his head. "Fine. Fine, I'll stay." He tossed his keys into the bowl by the door, and quickly hung up his jacket. He stalked over to the family room, plunking down on one of the couches. He looked to the side, away from his parents.

Mary sighed as she watched her son. He didn't like this idea. Not because he didn't like psychics. More because he didn't like how they were treated.

_Dean might be tough, but he has a soft side. _Mary thought with a smile.

"Mary," John called from across the room. Mary quickly turned towards her husband, hope shining on her face. John grinned at her expression.

"They're here." John said.

Mary gasped and rushed to the door, opening it hurriedly. She peered out and saw a man step out of a black SUV parked in their driveway. He looked clean. Crisp. He looked like the kind of person that should be a bank accountant, not a social worker for a psychic.

Mary stepped out of the house. One quick glance over her shoulder her assured her that her husband was close behind, and Dean was sneakily looking out of the window at the new arrivals.

The man crossed to the other side of the car, and opened the backseat door. He reached in, fiddling with something, before finally pulling back. He took a step back, making some room for the boy to jump out. Mary waited patiently by the door, wanting to sprint over to the pair, but knowing that would be unprofessional.

When the boy stepped down from the car, the man wrapped an arm over his shoulders. He started herding the boy towards Mary and John, leaning down slightly to whisper something to the child. Mary saw the boy duck his head, as if ashamed. Or frightened. Her heart sang with empathy for the boy, and she found herself yearning to hold him, to comfort him.

As the two approached, the man nodded graciously in greeting. He held out his hand when they got closer.

"Ma'am, my name is Jeffrey Pearson." He introduced himself. He clapped the boy's shoulder, inciting a small flinch. "This is Sam."

Mary smiled kindly at Sam, but received nothing in return.

"You must be Mrs. Winchester." Mr. Pearson guessed with a charming smile.

"Please, call me Mary." She insisted.

A faint barking became heard, and Sam's head snapped up, looking around for the source. Mary noticed the fear and apprehension, but she also saw a spark of eagerness, and curiosity.

Dean's dog, Bones, came rushing out the house, barking crazily. The great golden retriever rushed straight at Sam. As Bones neared, Mary reached out her hand, and managed to snag his collar, stopping him short from tackling the young boy.

Sam's eyes were wide, but the fear was mostly gone. Now he looked hopeful, and slightly awed.

Mary hung onto Bone's collar, as John stepped forward to hold onto him. "I'm so sorry." She apologized. "My son's dog."

John took hold of Bone's collar, and turned back towards the house. "Dean!" He shouted. Mary saw Sam flinch. She offered him an encouraging smile, one that wasn't returned.

Dean appeared, looking sheepish. "Sorry," He mumbled. He grabbed onto the dogs collar, and started to drag him back to the house.

Mary looked back down at Sam. His eyes were back on the ground, but she could see a very faint smile on his lips.

* * *

Sam stared at the ground. He could still hear the dog barking, though it had quieted down some. Mr. Pearson exchanged some more trivial words with Mary, and kept up a light, kind tone throughout it.

Sam's heart felt bitter. _Sure, play nice._ He thought. _God forbid anyone find out what a son of a cow you really are. _

He didn't know what to think about this woman, this woman that didn't look at him in disgust, or fear, or hatred. Not even pity, which Sam had also experienced on multiple occasions. No, she looked at him with a sort of kindness. It unnerved him.

"Well," Mary said. "Would you like to come inside?" She gestured back towards the house, where Dean was towing his dog up the steps to the porch.

"Of course." Mr. Pearson said with a grin. His hand on Sam's shoulder tightened for a moment; a warning. Behave.

Mr. Pearson kept his hand on Sam's shoulder as they entered the Winchester's house. Sam looked around disinterestedly. He doubted he would be here long. The longest he had ever been in a Care home was about two or three months. This home would be no different.

"Dean, why don't you take Sam into the kitchen?" Mary suggested kindly. Dean, still hanging onto the collar of his dog, looked alarmed for a second. The message was clear to Sam.

_You want me to be alone with that thing? _

His face burned, and he felt that the tag around his neck was screaming out at everyone in the room. He had never been proud of what he was, and now was no different. Once again, Sam felt the want to be normal. Not hated. Not feared. Not pitied. Normal.

"Son." John said in a slow voice. He sounded annoyed, and Dean could hear it, too. He straightened, turning to Sam, and attempted a smile. He started pulling his dog out of the room, and Sam looked uncertainly up at Mr. Pearson.

Mr. Pearson gave Sam a little shove. "Go on," He muttered, irritated. He flashed a reassuring smile to Mary and John, and pushed Sam forward again. "Go, now." He ordered stiffly.

Sam could tell that Mr. Pearson was hoping that he wouldn't get stubborn. Sam considered it. But it wasn't worth it. Not right now. He walked quickly past Mary and John, following Dean.

Dean was standing next to the counter, filling up the dog's bowl. The dog started devouring the food, eating huge bites at once.

"Pig," Dean muttered, cracking a smile.

Sam stared at the dog. "What's his name?" He asked quietly.

Dean looked up at him, seemingly shocked that Sam had spoken. "Um, Bones."

Internally, Sam smiled. Bones. Cute name for a dog. On the outside, he showed no emotion. He'd learned a long time ago that people didn't care if he was happy, or amused. Just as long as he was under control.

Dean sighed. "So, you want something to eat?" He asked it as if he didn't really care, just wanted to be polite. Sam shook his head, watching as Bones finished up his food.

Dean shrugged, and opened the cabinet. He grabbed a bag of chips, and started munching.

Sam held out his hand to Bones, and gently, the dog nosed his palm. Sam's mouth turned in a small grin. He lightly patted Bones's head, and his tail wagged.

Suddenly, Bones turned away from Sam when he heard the fridge door open. Bones's tail started wagging with enthusiasm, and he panted. Dean looked up at Sam, holding a bag of carrots. Sam furrowed his brow in confusion, and Dean grinned.

"Watch." He ordered. Dean dug a carrot out of the bag, holding it out towards Bones. The dog stared, almost drooling. Lightly, Dean set the food on top of the dog's nose.

Sam's eyes widened. Bones stayed still, going cross eyed as he tried to keep the treat in view.

"Wait." Dean said, and Sam wasn't sure who he was ordering. Him, or the dog. Or both.

Sam edged a little closer. The dog slowly inched it's nose up.

Dean caught Sam's eye. He smiled at the awed expression on Sam's face.

"Okay," Dean said firmly. Bones snapped up his nose, snatching the treat out of the air.

"How did you do that?" Sam asked in a murmur. He wasn't really expecting an answer.

"Lots of training." Dean answered. He looked over at Sam uncertainly. "You wanna try?" He asked.

Sam made eye contact with Dean for a moment. He shrugged, looking back at the floor. "Sure." He finally answered. "How do you do it?"

Dean smiled genuinely. "I'll show you."

* * *

**How do you like it? Thumbs up? Hopefully not thumbs down…**

**I was planning to have a lot more in this chapter, but I kind of like this chapter size. What do you think? Longer chapters = longer wait for update. Shorter chapters = shorter wait. **

**Considering how much I am loving this story, I'll probably have the next chapter up by...Wednesday? Fingers crossed!**

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	2. Catch

**Hope you enjoyed the previous chapter. I'm so glad that there are people following the story. : ) **

**Chapter 2 - Catch**

Sam cracked a smile as Bones launched another carrot off of his nose. This time, though, he overshot, and the produce went skidding over the tile. Bones scrambled after it, leaving Sam and Dean laughing at the ridiculous display. Bones slurped up the carrot, and ran back to the boys, his tail swinging back and forth.

"Is he always this crazy?" Sam asked while ruffling the dog's fur.

"No." Dean said with a half smile. "Only when someone that he likes visits."

Sam's smile widened and he leaned down further to rile Bones up. "Do you like me, boy? Huh?" He joked, lightly scratching his ears. In response, Bones leaned against Sam's legs, causing him to slip.

Sam caught himself with his hands, and ended up laughing while Bones licked his face dry.

Dean regarded the young psychic carefully. He wasn't what Dean had expected. He was...well, normal. He hadn't done anything out of the ordinary at all. In fact, if he hadn't been wearing that...collar...Dean would never had suspected that he was what he was. A psychic.

* * *

"Here is Sam's personal file." Mr. Pearson said, handing over a thick folder.

Mary took it, and opened the top. The first page was a headshot of Sam, along with some personal information. Mary skimmed some of it.

"Precognition?" She read. She looked up at Mr. Pearson.

"Limited." He clarified. "Sam is prone to psychic visions, and occasional outbursts of telekinesis. All of that information is on page six."

He looked to John. "I assume you are the hunter?"

John nodded. "Yes."

"And you both understand the responsibilities and risks of becoming a Care home for a psychic?" Mr. Pearson asked.

"Yes, we do." Mary said clearly.

"I should warn you," Mr. Pearson said as he gathered his things. "Sam is not an easy charge. Should he give you any trouble, I would urge you to punish him harshly and without reserve."

Mary felt a mix of fear and anger heat up her chest. Had this man urged Sam's other Carers to punish him "harshly and without reserve"?

"I'm sure we'll be able to control him." John stated calmly. One glance in his direction told Mary that John was furious. The slight way he had shifted his stance into one more defensive, the way his eyes were ever so slightly narrowed, his hands set. All things that Mary had learned to mean that her husband was very, very mad.

"I should hope so." Mr. Pearson said cheerfully. "But don't despair if you are unable to keep him in line. Others were unsuccessful, no matter the extent they went to."

Mary's blood ran cold. When Sam had walked up to the house, he had been wearing long pants and a jacket. What injuries could he be bearing underneath his clothes?

"And, just between us," Mr. Pearson leaned in conspiratorially, as if sharing a secret. "If you thought it necessary to take it to physical levels, I would be able to keep the information away from the higher ups." He suggested.

Mary saw her husbands fists clench, and she herself had to restrain herself from hurting the cruel man standing in front of her.

"You need to leave. Now." Mary ordered, making her voice as cold as ice. Mr. Pearson looked at her in shock, as if expecting them to jump at the chance to physically hurt Sam.

"But-" He protested, confused.

"Now, Mr. Pearson." John stated, taking a threatening step forward. "You should know we will be contacting your superiors."

Mr. Pearson sneered. "Go ahead. They won't care about a harsh comment made about a psychic. Nobody cares about psychics. Nobody cares about Sam."

Mary stepped forward, next to her husband. "We do." She stated firmly, planting her feet and wrapping an arm around John. "We care about Sam."

* * *

"Go ahead. I'm ready." Dean said seriously. He bent his knees slightly, taking the catcher's stance. He widened his mouth, and nodded. "Gah He!" He repeated, his words distorted.

Sam held up a hand, aiming carefully. He swung his hand back slightly, and then released the Goldfish cracker into the air. It flew in a perfect arc, straight into Dean's mouth.

Dean chewed once, holding up a finger, and then swallowed. "Awesome!" He exclaimed. "You're a great shot." He leaned against the counter, grabbing a handful of crackers and popping two into his mouth.

"How come you never went out for the basketball team? God knows your tall enough." Dean commented, looking Sam up and down.

Sam went red. Wordlessly, he fingered the small tag attached to a cord fastened to his neck. His psychic tag.

"Oh," Dean said awkwardly. "Right." He stayed quiet for a minute, processing the information.

"Sam." A cold voice spoke behind him.

Sam jumped, and spun around, freezing when he saw Mr. Pearson standing so close.

"I'm leaving now, Sam." Mr. Pearson said. "Are you going to behave yourself?"

Sam didn't answer, feeling like a small mouse edging it's way past a large, hungry snake.

"I said," Mr. Pearson repeated. "Are you going to behave yourself?" He reached out, and took hold of Sam's shoulder, clenching his fingers.

Sam cried out, and jerked backwards, trying to escape Mr. Pearsons death grip.

Dean lurched forward, as John and Mary entered the room. They took in the scene quickly. Dean shoved himself between Mr. Pearson and Sam, protectively guarding him. With a yell, he shoved the social worker back, efectively breaking his grip. John grabbed the man, and dragged him to the front door, nearly throwing him out.

"If you aren't off my property in ten seconds, I'm calling the cops." John threatened. "You'll be out of a job my this time tomorrow!"

Mr. Pearson straightened, and brushed off his jacket, glaring at John. "You will regret this. I can promise you that."

In response, John slammed the door shut. He took a calming breath, and made his way back to the kitchen. Bones was pacing around the room, looking worried. Mary was fussing, ranting about improper conduct, and phone calls she was going to make.

"When I get a hold of his superiors," She trailed off, storming off to find a phone.

John looked down at Sam, who's face was beet red. John also noticed a distinctive quiver in his fingers, which hung by his side limply. Sam stared at the tile. He seemed uncomfortable. No, he looked fearful. John leaned down on one knee. He ducked slightly to get a good look at Sam's face.

"You alright, Sam?" John asked gently.

Sam glanced up, confused. This was normally when his Carers would yell, or send him up to his room. Or worse. They were never concerned. Not for him. Haltingly, he nodded.

John nodded in response. "Good." John straightened up and looked at Dean. "Why don't you boys go outside. Get some fresh air."

"Sure, Dad." Dean said, looking relieved. "That's a good idea."

Dean patted Sam's shoulder as he passed, indicating that he should follow. Sam trailed after the older boy. Bones trotted along at his heels, panting happily.

Dean opened the back door into their garage. He raised the garage door, grabbing two baseball gloves and a baseball. Dean made his way out to the front yard, shielding his eyes against the sun. Sam followed, jogging lightly.

Dean tossed a baseball glove to Sam. Sam caught it instinctively, looking up at Dean in confusion.

"You ever played catch before?" Dean asked. Sam went red again, and shook his head, embarrased. Dean smiled good-naturedly.

"Well, then, this should be educational." He said, and tossed the ball over to Sam.

Sam reached out his non-gloved hand, and hissed when the ball made contact. The ball dropped into the grass. Dean chuckled.

"Catch with the glove, Sammy." Dean instructed. He raised his glove in demonstration. "Throw it."

Sam, hesitant, lightly tossed the ball. As he had demonstrated with the Goldfish, he was a good shot, and threw directly to Dean's glove. Dean let the ball hit his glove, and caged it with his remaining hand. He then grabbed the ball right out of his glove and tossed it back to Sam.

After a few fails, Sam caught the hang of it, and was soon throwing higher and to the side to provide a bit of a challenge for Dean. Dean did the same.

"So, how many...homes have you been to?" Dean asked hesitantly. He didn't want to intrude, and yet he was curious about this kid. Where he had come from.

"Seven." Answered Sam. "Well, eight, I guess. Counting this one."

"Wow." Came Dean's answer. "That sucks."

Sam barked a short laugh. "Yeah. It does."

"How long?" Dean asked, throwing the ball up higher. Sam jumped to catch it, and tossed it back to Dean. "You know, how long have you been in the system?"

"Since I was twelve." Came his quiet answer.

"Man." Dean sympathized quietly. "Do you ever...miss your family? Your original one?"

Sam waited for a while to answer. "Yes. And no."

Dean waited for clarification. He was just about to assume that it wasn't coming, when Sam spoke again.

"They loved me, you know? My parents. I know they did. So I miss them. But they turned me in, when they could have tried to hide me. So I don't. It's complicated."

"Sounds complicated." Dean muttered.

"Yeah." Sam agreed. He caught the ball, and held onto it for a moment, throwing it into his own glove. "You know what the worst part is?"

Dean shook his head. He knew better than to say anything.

"If they had turned me in, and been sad, or whatever, I would have been okay. But, they were...happy...I was leaving." Sam looked up at Dean. Dean could see tears shining in his eyes.

"My little brother was nine. He cried when they dragged me away. He chased after the car. And my parents did nothing. They let him cry." A tear slipped down Sam's cheek. "They did nothing…" He trailed off.

Dean stood in a shocked silence. He had often wondered what happened when a psychic was discovered. Obviously, they were separated from their families, but he had wondered if they ever visited. If they ever saw their family again.

"I guess I don't miss them. Not who there were, when they found out. I miss my parents before they knew what I was." Sam said softly. "I miss going over homework with my dad. I miss arguing with my mom about cleaning my room. I miss playing Legos with my younger brother."

Dean sighed. He stepped forward, walking over to where Sam stood. Reluctantly, he wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulder, shaking him supportively.

"You don't need to worry about them, okay?" Dean promised. "You got me. I'll look after you."

Sam laughed, his voice still thick with tears. "Are you sure? That's kind of a hard job."

Dean smiled, nodding. "I'm sure."

* * *

**Thanks to all the reviewers, followers, and favoriters(?).**

**Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up my Monday. No promises. : )**


	3. Beating

**Hey everybody. I'm so grateful for all the support I'm getting for the story. : )**

**Glad you all enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Beating**

"_Mom!" Sam begged, twisting away from the officer to see his mother again. "Please!"_

_His mother stood with his father, stoic and calm. "I'm sorry, Samuel." She said coldly._

_Sam's heart lurched when she said his name. She only called him Samuel when he was bad. When he got himself in trouble. _

"_Please, Mom! Don't let them take me!" Sam cried, as the officer grabbed Sam around the waist, and resumed pulling him to the door. _

"_You'll see, Samuel. This is what's best for you." His father promised, his voice uncaring. _

"_Please, Mom, Dad! I don't want to go." Sam sobbed, still fighting to reach his parents. _

"_Go, Sam. Just go." His father snapped. "You don't belong with us anymore." _

"_Mom!" Sam cried, reaching out for her. Still fighting to get back to her._

_She shook her head sadly. "No, Samuel. We don't want you here."_

_Sam stopped fighting._

* * *

Dean rolled over, his eyes opening into slits. Something was off. Something had woken him up. But what? His first concern was his father. Had something gone wrong on a hunt?

No, his father was here, at least for the time being. He was safe. So what was the problem?

Dean sat up slowly, peering around his room. Sam slept on the other side, on Dean's bed. Sam had offered to take the air mattress, but Dean wouldn't hear it.

Then he heard a sound. Small, and unfamiliar. And yet he knew what it was coming from. Or, who it was coming from. Dean looked at Sam. In his sleep, Sam whimpered again. Immediately, Dean stood up and crossed the room. He sat down on the foot of his bed, taking hold of Sam's leg. He shook it lightly, inciting another moan from Sam.

"Mom…" Dean heard Sam whisper. His heart lurched.

"No...Daniel…." Sam trailed off.

Dean reached up, and touched Sam's shoulder. Suddenly, Sam shouted, and lurched away, slipping over the side of the bed. Dean reached out, and managed to catch Sam before he hit the ground. Sam's eyes flew open, and he jerked backwards when he saw Dean leaning over him.

Dean set Sam on the ground. "Sorry." He apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Sam looked away. "'s fine." He mumbled. Sam stood up, and sat back down on the bed.

"I'll...let you sleep." Dean said awkwardly. He stood up sorely, and made his way back to his mattress.

* * *

Sam rolled onto his stomach, staring at the clock. 2:13 AM

He had been laying there, awake, for the past two hours. Since Dean had woken him up, he hadn't been able to fall asleep. That was normal, though. Usually he got somewhere between two to four hours of sleep a night. Tonight he had managed to get three.

It wasn't that he wasn't tired. He was. He was just tired of reliving that day, over and over. Every night, his brother crying, his parents shunning him, the officer dragging him away.

Of course, what followed was probably worse. After the officer had dragged him away, he was driven to a facility on the outskirts of the state. There, he had undergone different scans and tests. He had been given his tag, and told all the rules and laws. From here, he went to a Waiting Home. Where psychics went to wait for a hunter to take them in.

Sam knew he was lucky. He had been young when his powers had appeared. He was young, and cute, and vulnerable looking. People felt sorry for him. They wanted to help. One of his friends at the Waiting Home had compared him to a lost puppy.

Of course, they soon learned that he was more of a rabid dog than a lost puppy. Sam refused to give in to certain rules. Rules like in public restaurants, he had to be escorted to the bathrooms. If he went outside alone, he had to wear his tracker. He was not allowed to handle any weapons, even with an adult present.

The rules were so stupid. Like, just because he was a psychic, he automatically went psycho and tried to kill everyone within a two mile radius. It was like they thought he wasn't even human anymore, like he had no moral compass.

Sam sighed, and rolled again onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

He could tell it was going to be a long night.

* * *

Mary held her cup of coffee close, warming her hands on the heated surface. She took a deep whiff of the steam rising from the liquid. Blowing lightly, she took a small sip.

"Morning." A low voice behind her rumbled. John's arms circled her waist, and he leaned in closer to kiss her cheek.

Mary smiled. "Morning." She said in reply. "Are the boys up yet?" She asked, slightly surprised at how the plural felt so normal on her tongue.

"No, I thought I'd let them sleep." John answered.

"So I get the joy of waking them up?" Mary joked. "What an honor."

John smiled, and took a step back, picking up his briefcase. "I'm going to meet a few hunters outside of town. I should be back by dinner."

"Sure," Mary agreed. She leaned in to kiss him deeply, closing her eyes.

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, and she broke away from the kiss, looking to the hallway. "Sam." She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of him. John smiled at her, and grabbed his briefcase as he made his way out.

"See ya, Sam." He nodded to the teen as the left. Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, then went blank.

"Do you want some breakfast, Sweetie?" Mary asked gently. Sam nodded, and crossed the room to the cabinets. Silently, he searched through the cupboards until he found what he was looking for. A bowl. He started reaching for the cereal box, but froze, looking at Mary.

"May-may I have some cereal?" He asked quietly.

Mary's heart clenched in sympathy for Sam. "Of course, Sam." She assured him.

Sam grabbed the bowl and filled it halfway, pouring some milk in and walking over to the table. Mary smiled and found a spoon for him. She walked over to the table. "Forgetting something?" She asked, handing him the utensil.

Sam flinched when she spoke, and kept his eyes on the table. He accepted the spoon. "Thank you." He said.

Mary smiled gently, and stepped back. He really was a nice boy.

* * *

Dean woke up at noon, to his mother flicking the light on and off. He groaned, covering his face with his pillow.

"Dean, Sam's getting bored down there, all alone." Mary stated. "Can't you go entertain him for a few hours?"

Dean sat up slowly. "What am I, a babysitter?" He grumbled. Mary crooked her eyebrows, but smiled. Dean didn't mean it.

Dean made his way downstairs slowly, yawning all the way. When he entered the kitchen, he saw Sam sitting on the couch, tossing the baseball to himself, the glove on the seat next to him. Dean smiled halfway.

Sam glanced up and saw Dean standing in the doorway. His eyes lit up, and his mouth turned up slightly in a smile. Wordlessly, he tossed the ball over to Dean. Dean caught it, and nodded towards the front door.

Sam jumped up from the couch, and ran towards the door, dodging Mary as he went. Mary turned to Dean with a smile, pleasantly surprised.

"Going outside?" She asked.

Dean nodded. "Yep," He laughed, watching Sam hurry out the door. "We'll probably be out there a while."

"Come inside when you want lunch, okay?" Mary said with a laugh. "If it starts to get hot, put on sunscreen!" She called as Dean followed Sam out the door.

* * *

Sam lunged to the side to reach a fly ball. He shouted triumphantly when the ball landed soundly in his glove.

"Nice catch." Dean complimented. "Maybe we can break out the football after lunch."

Sam shrugged, a modest smile shining on his face. "Whatever." He agreed good-naturedly.

Dean looked back at the house. "I can go up and get some snacks, if you want."

Sam nodded. "Sure,"

Dean smiled, and headed up to the house. "I'll be back out in a minute."

Dean had sometimes wondered about having siblings. What it would be like to have to watch out for someone, and teach them the ways of life. He had dismissed the idea, with visions of annoying little brats, screaming and running in circles. Now, though, he liked the idea. He liked Sam.

He liked being an older brother.

* * *

Sam shifted uncomfortably on the yard when Dean entered the house. Technically, he wasn't allowed to be outside alone without his tracker being activated. But maybe, because Dean was going to be right back, it wouldn't matter.

Sam took a calming breath, and shielded his eyes against the rising sun. A sound down the street startled him, and he jumped, glancing around for the noise.

A few houses away, a group of kids were walking, laughing and shouting amongst themselves. Sam felt a familiar pang of bitterness as he watched them, fully aware of how different he was from them. He would never have that freedom, to walk freely with friends, untracked and untagged. He was doomed to spend the rest of his life collared like some common animal.

Suddenly, Sam became aware of a voice shouting louder than the others. "Hey! Who're you?" A boy at the front stopped next to the Winchester's mailbox, and was facing Sam's direction. Sam felt a stab of fear in his heart. Was this kid talking to him?

The boy stepped forward in a confident swagger, looking Sam up and down. He was small, but obviously in charge of the posse of boys surrounding him. Altogether, there was maybe seven, and the first boy was the most physically undaunting. However, he had an air of leadership about him.

"Hey!" The boy repeated, walking closer. Sam's heart thudded heavily in his chest, and he stumbled back a few steps. He felt like his tag was shining brighter than it ever had before, glowing in the late morning sun.

The small metal piece glinted in the sunlight, and it caught the leader's eye. The boy blinked for a second, and his eyes zeroed in on the tag, his eyes widening and then narrowing in turn. He glared up at Sam.

"A psychic, huh?" He said, his voice taut.

Sam glanced back at the house. Where was Dean? He turned back to the group to see that the rest of the group had recollected behind their leader, and were all glaring at him.

"You know, I'm pretty sure that psychics aren't allowed to be outside by themselves. Have to babysitted, like un-housebroken puppies." The leader taunted.

Sam felt anger flare through his veins, and adrenaline made his heartbeat rush in his ears. He tried to calm himself. When he got out of control was when the bad things happened. These were the reasons that his Carers got rid of him. He couldn't be controlled. He couldn't even control himself.

"Maybe we should teach you a lesson." The leader threatened. Sam narrowed his eyes, but didn't move. He knew he could handle himself in a fight. The question was, was it worth it?

"I'd like to see you try." Sam shot back, the words forcing themselves out of his mouth before he could stop them.

The leader grinned, like Sam had just delivered Christmas early. Slowly, he started moving forward, his group following close behind.

_These guys have seen one too many gang movies._ Sam thought grimly.

Suddenly, a large boy lunged at Sam, throwing a fist towards his head. Sam dodged underneath, and jabbed an elbow into the boy's face, making him fall. He felt a blow to his back, making him grunt. Sam swung a leg out behind him, tripping whoever had hit him. He felt someone grab his shoulders, and he tried to break their grip by spinning, but only ended up sprawled on his back.

_Not good. _Sam thought, before he felt the blows start landing all over his body. He brought his hands up to his head to protect his face, and didn't attempt to get up. He could only hope that they stopped soon.

"You're a freak." The leader hissed as he slammed a fist into Sam's side. "A disgusting, horrible, freak."

Sam prayed that Dean would come soon.

* * *

"Have you two been playing catch this whole time?" Mary questioned as she got the plateful of food ready. Dean had told her that they wanted some snacks, and she had insisted that she make them a picnic lunch.

Dean glanced back nervously at the door. He had only meant to step in for a minute, and a bad feeling was creeping up his spine, like some kind of chill seeping into his bones.

"Pretty much. Sam really likes it." Dean commented absently, still peering at the door.

"I'm glad that you two seem to be getting along. It's important that he have someone around his age…" His mother kept talking, but Dean felt a flash of panic. He started for the door, his mother calling behind him.

Dean yanked the door open, and his blood ran cold. A small crowd of boys was gathered near the edge of his yard, surrounding something. Or someone. A quick glance around the front yard affirmed what Dean had suspected. Sam was nowhere to be seen. So he had either run, or was in the middle of that crowd.

Dean stared for a minute, and then a cry broke him out of his stupor. Sam's cry. A sudden burst of energy radiated from the center of the group, sending some of the boys reeling. Sam.

Red flashed in front of Dean's eyes, and all he could focus on was the blinding rage and anger that he felt.

His feet pounded across the hard cement, and he reached the boys sooner than expected. Dean roared as he neared them, and some of them looked up in alarm when they heard him. The smart ones scrambled to get away when Dean neared, sprinting in all directions as fast as they could. The tough ones lifted their hands to face him, only to get smashed to the ground one by one, like dominos.

Dean snapped out a leg, cracking someone in the stomach. The kid curled up in the fetal position, groaning in pain. He lifted another to his feet, only to toss him a few feet away. The last one stood up painfully, throwing a weak punch towards his face. Dean blocked it with ease, extending his own fist and bashing the boy in the throat. The boy collapsed to the ground, coughing and retching.

Dean looked at the last boy standing frozen. This one, he knew.

"TJ," Dean spit. TJ stood, fear freezing his face into place.

"H-hey, man, we're cool, right? We were just doing you a favor. Y-you're little freak here was trying to escape-" He was cut off by a sharp blow to his jaw. TJ sat there stunned, while Dean stood over him, anger coming off of him in waves.

"Do yourself a favor, TJ." Dean snarled. "Get out of here."

TJ scrambled up off of the ground, and starting running from the yard, glancing behind him as he went.

"You'll regret this, Winchester!" He shouted.

"Doubt it." Dean muttered. He leaned down next to Sam, who lay still, his eyes closed.

"Sammy." Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, and Sam jerked awake, gasping in pain. His face scrunched up, and he clutched Dean's sleeve.

"Hey, hey," Dean soothed, gently pressing him back against the ground. "Take it easy. You just took a pretty bad beating there, kid."

As Sam stared up at him, Dean was surprised to see tears well in the younger boy's eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean hovered over him, looking for a particularly bad injury that could be hurting Sam.

"De'." Sam rasped, a split lip preventing him from pronouncing his name right.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean said gently, still probing his body for broken bones.

"Please don't send me 'way." Sam slurred, a tear slipping down his face.

Dean paused in shock, turning his full attention to a distraught Sam. "What do you mean, Sammy? Why would we send you away?"

"Used my powers...hurt a kid…" Sam trailed off, hiccupping slightly.

Dean recalled the strange burst of energy that he had seen. He had assumed that had been Sam; now he was positive. He felt sick when he thought about it. Would Mr. Pearson take Sam away because of the incident?

"It's okay, Sam." Dean reassured him, brushing Sam's bangs out of his face. Sam let out a pained groan. "Everything's going to be okay."

* * *

**Oh my gosh, I am sooo sorry about it being late. I think this is the first time that a chapter has come later than I promised. *sigh* well, I guess it had to happen sometime. Hopefully the quality will make up for the long wait. : /**

**REVIEW! I'd love to know what you think of how I am doing with their personalities. **


	4. Wounded

**Here's chapter 4.**

**Sorry it took so long to update. Life kinda grabbed on and wouldn't let go, you know? Hope the quality makes up for it. **

**Disclaimer: Please, If I owned Supernatural or any of the characters I wouldn't be writing short stories. I'd be making MOVIES with them. : )**

**Enjoy. **

**Chapter 4 - Wounded**

line break

Dean stared down at Sam for a minute, fear making his heart pound. Mr. Pearson couldn't take Sam away for defending himself, right? Self-defense was allowed. However, he doubted Mr. Pearson would see it like that.

Sam shifted, and groaned, attempting to peel himself off the ground. Dean lurched forward and supported his shoulders, gently easing him into a sitting position.

"C'mon, Sammy." Dean urged. "Up you get."

He hooked his hands under Sam's shoulders, and pulled him up, Sam softly moaning. Dean placed Sam's arm over his shoulder, and supported most of his weight.

Dean felt a flare of anger as he hauled Sam back towards the house, hearing the small whimpers that he made the whole way. Those kids were monsters. They were the things that his father should be killing. At least the vamps and demons had an excuse. It was in their nature to kill. Those kids _chose, _intentionally, to hurt Sam.

Dean used his free hand to bang on the door. He let his hand drop, glancing anxiously around as he supported Sam. Mary pulled the door open, her mouth already open with a question on her lips. She gasped when she took in the sight of Sam, and hurriedly ushered the two inside.

"Oh, Dean, what happened?" She asked as she helped him lead Sam to a chair. Sam groaned as they lowered him into a kitchen chair.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean muttered to the pained teen. He looked up at his mother.

"TJ and his gang." He growled, staring down at Sam. Mary saw flickers of rage dancing in his eyes. He looked up at her.

Mary's eyes narrowed in response. "They did this to him?" She asked tightly. Her eyes glanced down at Dean's hands, and took in his bloodied knuckles. A small satisfactory smile shaped her face.

"I'm guessing they got what they deserved?" Mary guessed.

Dean laughed darkly. "That would be an understatement."

"Good." Mary said simply. They stood quietly for a moment. A small moan from the boy below them startled them from their thoughts.

Mary crossed the kitchen to get a washcloth, and brought it back to gently wipe off Sam's face. Sam whimpered at the contact, but relaxed under her kind touch. A small smile made it's way onto Mary's face.

She gazed at Sam with a reserved love. She had only met him a day or two ago, and already he had found a permanent place in her heart. She loved him as she loved Dean, and her husband. As far as Mary was concerned, Sam was a part of the family, and would stay that way.

"His back is covered in bruises," Dean commented, his voice gruff. Mary made eye contact with her oldest, and she placed a steadying hand on his arm. She knew the rage he must be feeling. She could tell that he cared for Sam just as she did.

Mary reached back and gently eased Sam's jacket off his shoulders. She set it to the side, and took hold of his aged T-shirt. She tugged it off of his thin frame, exposing his bony chest. Sam shivered as the air chilled his skin.

Mary stifled a gasp when the T-shirt came free. Sam's skin was a patchwork of bruises, red, purple, yellow, and green. Not new blemishes, either. Some looked days, even weeks, old. It was painfully obvious that these had occurred before Sam had arrived with the Winchesters.

Mary looked up at Dean, and saw his eyes narrow in hatred. His fists closed at the thought of someone hurting Sam, probably for the same reason that the boys had. Because he was different.

"Oh, Sam…" Mary murmured quietly. "Who did this?"

Sam lowered his head, covering his eyes with his hair. Mary reached out and caught his chin, raising it up. She kneeled down, placing her hands on Sam's bare shoulders.

"Nobody." Sam whispered.

"Sam…" Mary whispered, her voice breaking. "Who hurt you?"

"Nobody!" Sam shouted, his voice raising defensively.

Mary looked down at him in concern. "Was it one of the other couples who took care of you?"

"It doesn't matter." Sam muttered, averting his eyes. "It's over."

Mary searched his face, waiting until he met her eyes. "You can bet it's over." She promised fiercely. "I'll make sure of that."

Dean stepped up next to Sam, and lightly tousled his brown hair. "No one will hurt you again, Sam. I promise."

Tears welled up in Sam's eyes, and he ducked his head bashfully. Mary pulled his forward until he rested against her, her arms wrapped protectively around him.

"No one's going to hurt you, baby." Mary murmured. "We'll keep you safe."

* * *

"Mary!" John called as he entered the house. "I"m home."

"We're in here, honey!" Mary called back.

John entered the kitchen to see Mary chopping up food for dinner, and Sam and Dean laughing as they set the table. Sam caught sight of John, and the smile vanished, wariness taking it's place. John flashed a reassuring smile his way, and cautiously, Sam resumed the horse-play, Dean acting as though the pause never occurred.

Dinner was a quiet affair, as John recounted his findings throughout the day.

"You think it's a hunt?" Dean asked eagerly, shoveling pieces of food into his mouth.

"Don't get excited." John warned. "It's probably nothing, and even if it were something, I wouldn't take you. You've been falling behind in your studies."

Dean sagged back, sulking. "My grades aren't _that_ bad." He protested quietly.

"How does that work?" Sam spoke up, his eyes on his plate.

"How does what work, Sam?" Mary asked gently.

"Hunting." Sam clarified. "Do you get to go anywhere, shoot anything?" He looked tense, as if he expected his question to get a bad response.

John chuckled. The sound seemed to relax Sam slightly. "Not exactly. You have to get a permit to hunt, and there's all sorts of paperwork involved after a hunt." He sighed and shook his head. "It was much easier back in the old days."

Mary tutted as she set a plate of chicken onto the table. "You mean back hundreds of years ago, when monsters were only legends, and hunting was illegal?"

John smiled. "Sure. There was a lot less paperwork involved."

Sam smiled down at his plate. He took a few small bites. He was still unsure what to make of John. He seemed kind enough, but still daunting. He wasn't as gentle as Mary, not as carefree as Dean. And yet there was still a caring nature about him, though it seemed tinged with fiercity.

Sam got the impression that if anyone were to threaten John's family, he would retaliate with the force of an unstoppable hurricane. The only question, now, was whether John counted Sam as part of the family?

* * *

The glow of the TV washed over the dark family room. John sat on one of the couches, a beer in one hand. Mary sat on the right side of the other couch, leaning against the arm. Dean sat on the other side, with Sam in the middle.

As the program went on, he leaned closer and closer to Mary. She quickly took notice of what he was doing, and when he got closer, she shifted so that she was able to tuck him under her arm. Mary felt Sam tense up, but after a minute, his muscles relaxed, and he gently laid his head down on Mary's shoulder. Her heart swelled with love, and she caught John's eye. He smiled at her.

Dean looked over at Sam, all snuggled up with Mary, and he fought down a laugh. He looked downright cute.

_That kid's going to be a chick magnet someday._ He speculated.

Dean watched as Sam's eyelids drooped lower and lower, until finally his breathing slowed and he slipped into sleep. Dean smiled and turned his attention back to the TV. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the back of the couch. He felt himself drift to sleep.

* * *

Dean was jolted awake by a small sound. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He sat up drowsily, gazing around for the source of the noise.

Dean noticed Mary looking down at Sam. He followed her gaze, and saw Sam shifting around uncomfortably, his breath coming more shallowly. Mary's brow wrinkled in concern.

"Sam?" She whispered, trying to pull Sam out of his slumber.

Dean reached out a hand, and lightly shook the boys shoulder. Sam's eyes shot open, and he shot straight up. Mary jumped in surprise.

Dean felt relief that whatever nightmare Sam had been experiencing was over. However, he felt worry grip him again when he noticed Sam's expression. His nose was wrinkled, his eyes clenched shut. He sat straight up, his whole body tense, his hands gripping the side of the cushion like was a life raft. Sam was in pain.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke quietly. He reached out to touch Sam cautiously.

Suddenly, Sam collapsed forward with a low groan. He gripped his head in his hands, his fingers twisting in his long hair. Sam fell forward, falling off the furniture to the floor. Dean hurriedly jumped off the couch and knelt by Sam's side.

"Sam? Are you okay?" He murmured. His only reply was a whimper of pain.

"Dad!" Dean called. His father jolted awake from his position on the couch. "Call an ambulance, Sam's having some kind of an attack!"

John took in the scene quickly, and made eye contact with Mary. They stared for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

"What are you waiting for!?" Dean cried. "A formal invitation!?" He lunged up and ran towards the phone. Quickly, John stopped Dean, holding onto him.

"What are you doing?!" Dean shouted. "Call the freaking ambulance!"

"Stop, Dean!" John ordered. "Sam's not having an attack, he's having a vision."

This stopped Dean cold. He looked down at the whimpering body on the floor. He had been silently speculating about what Sam's power could be. He'd thought he witnessed it earlier, with that odd power surge in the front yard, but obviously Sam had other talents.

Sam let out a pained moan, and Dean shoved his way out of his father's arms. He knelt again by Sam, pulling his head onto Dean's lap. Sam had his teeth gritted, and his breath came in short pants.

"Are you sure?" Dean asked shortly. He knew the answer.

"Yes." Mary answered. "Mr. Pearson didn't say that they would be this painful, though."

Dean let out a short bark of a laugh. "Well, he wouldn't exactly be the type to care, would he?"

John and Mary exchanged a worried look.

Dean stared down at the trembling teen in his arms. "It's okay, Sammy." He whispered. "I've got you, I promise."

* * *

_A young boy with curly auburn hair peeked around the edge of the hallway. Seeing no one, he swiftly sprinted down the short distance, making his way to the kitchen. He was opening the fridge when a hand landed on his shoulder._

"_Get down!" The voice, female, hissed. The boy dropped to the floor immediately. _

_An older man peered into the room. He glared around the area, his eyes landing on the girl. _

"_Maria, you seen Max 'round here?" He growled. "He's s'posed to be in bed." _

"_No, Dad. Haven't seen him." Maria lied, shrugging her shoulders innocently. _

_Her father grunted, then stomped away. _

_Maria let out a sigh of relief. "You can come out now." She whispered to the boy below the counter. _

_He stood up cautiously, only relaxing when he assured himself the coast was clear. "Thanks." He said graciously to the girl. "I thought he was gonna catch me." _

_Maria smiled. "Nah. I got your back." She held out her hand, a sandwich sitting on her palm. Max took it, a smile plain on his face. Maria turned to grab him an apple, but Max stopped her. _

"_I got it." He assured her. Concentrating, Max raised his hand. Slowly, the fruit rose in the air, lazily drifting toward him. _

_Maria sucked in a breath. "Max, you aren't supposed to do that! Dad'll beat you if he sees! You'll be sent to a different Care home!" _

_Max snatched the apple out of the air, flashed Maria a cocky smile, and dashed back to his room. _

_Breathing heavily from adrenalin, Max sat down on his bed, preparing to take a bite out of the sandwich._

_A mighty CRASH interrupted him. Max shielded his head as glass rained down around him. A large form tackled him to the floor, pinning him down and shoving a wet cloth over him mouth and nose. _

_Max panicked, thrashing around, but his movements became much more lazy and tired. His eyes drooped shut, and the attacker, face covered with a black face mask, threw the boy over his shoulder and jumped out of the window._

* * *

Sam gasped, his eyes flying open. He groaned, and coughed.

"It's okay, Sammy, just breathe." Dean's voice soothed him. Sam relaxed, breathing heavily.

"Dean…" He moaned. He coughed again, small tremors rocking down his body.

"Don't talk, Sammy. Just breathe, okay? You're alright." Dean calmed him. "Go to sleep, okay?"

Sam wanted to. He wanted to so badly. His head still ached, he felt feverish, and fragmented images of the boy were flashing behind his eyes. But he had to tell them.

"Dean…" Sam gasped. "Someone...took…"

"Sammy, it's okay-" Dean started.

"No!" Sam interrupted. "Someone...kidnapped...a psychic." He managed to make out before bursting into a coughing fit again.

Mary and John exchanged worried looks.

"Don't worry, Mary." John said. "I'll look into it tomorrow."

"Just rest, Sammy." Dean urged. "I'll take care of you."

Dean watched as Sam's eyes drifted shut, finally relaxing against him. He felt himself relax at the sight.

"There you go, Sammy." Dean whispered. "You're okay now. I got you."

**Aww...I really love writing big bro Dean. Makes my heart all warm and melty. **

**Review! I would love to know who you think the bad guy is, and predictions you might have, guesses you want to make, what you like about the story, what you hate about it, how much you ABSOLUTELY want to see Mr. Pearson's head on a stick… For example. **

**No promises on when I can update next. Just keep an eye out. **

**Cheers!**


	5. Visitor

**I'm so thankful for all the support this story has received. Your reviews keep me motivated!**

**All the usual disclaimers...nothing recognizable is owned by me...I'm eternally grateful to Kripke...I love Sam...All that stuff. : )**

**Chapter 5 - Visitor**

* * *

Sam's eyes cracked open, and he blinked rapidly against the light streaming in from the window. He pushed himself up, body heavy.

"You're awake." Sam heard Dean's voice. He turned towards the door, and saw Dean leaning against the doorframe. He had his hands buried in his pants pockets.

Sam stood up, yawning. "What'd I miss?"

Dean shrugs, not meeting his eyes. "Dad's about to leave. He's going to check out the...uh...thing."

Sam stopped short. He took in Dean's expression, his posture. Sam felt heat rush to his cheeks.

"Dean, I...it's not always like that…" He trailed off.

Dean shook his head. "Let's not talk about it, okay? Just pretend it didn't happen."

Sam narrowed his eyes, irritated. "Pretend it didn't happen?" He repeated.

Dean looked up, his expression dropping shamefully. "Sam, I didn't-"

"No, it's fine." Sam seethed. "Let's just pretend it didn't happen. Let's just pretend that the reason I'm here at all, the reason I wear _this_-" he jerked at his tag. "didn't happen."

"C'mon, man, I was just-" Dean protested defensively.

"No, Dean! I can't just pretend it didn't happen! Those kind of episodes are my whole _life_! I deal with them all the time, and I see people die, being torn apart, or eaten, or shot, and I can't ever do _anything_ to help them!" Sam felt angry tears well in his eyes, and he gritted his teeth.

"I can't help it, okay?" Dean raised his voice. "It freaked me out!"

Sam reached over to Dean's dresser and lobbed a book at him. The book cracked into the wall.

"How do you think I feel?!" Sam shouted. "I live through them! They're the reason my parents threw me out of the house like a piece of garbage! So I'm sorry if they 'freak you out'. 'Cause guess what?! They freak me out, too! And I'm the one that has to deal with them!"

"You think this is easy for me?!" Dean shouted. Sam flinched back for a moment, and Dean felt a spike of guilt pierce his heart, but he shoved it down. "Two days ago, I got a younger brother! All of the sudden, I'm expected to watch out for you. And not only that, but I have to act like I'm totally cool with the freaky ESP stuff you got going on! It's a lot to deal with! So just back off!"

Sam felt a jolt of betrayal hit him. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He floundered for a minute, hurt spreading across his face.

"Fine." He whispered. "I'll back off." He blew past Dean, shoving him out of the way. Mary and John stood at the bottom of the stairs, Mary looking worried and concerned. Her eyebrows tented when she saw the tears running down Sam's face.

"Sam, Dean didn't mean what he said-" She tried to comfort him, reaching her arms out.

"Leave me alone!" Sam sobbed, pushing her arms away. He ran across the room to the front door. Yanking it open, he started to rush out, only to smack into another person standing in front of him. He raised his head to see their face, and his face paled when he saw who it was. Sam scrambled backwards, his heart pounding fiercely, as the person entered with two men flanking him on either side.

"Sam." Mr. Pearson said, his voice clear and cold, his eyes calculating. The officers on his either side eased toward Sam, hands held out toward him.

"Let's have a little chat, shall we?"

* * *

John stepped forward, hands held out to the men, gently easing Sam behind him.

"Hold it, Pearson." He growled at the seasoned man. "What exactly is going on here?"

"We got a complaint." Mr. Pearson drawled. Narrowing his eyes, his gaze zeroed in on Sam, piercing through him like a laser beam. "Apparently, Sam was left unaccounted for outside, without his tracker activated, during which time he attacked a group of students walking home from the park."

Sam felt heat rush through his limbs. An insane urge to shake Mr. Pearson by the throat came over him. His fingers twitched, a movement not unnoticed by Mr. Pearson.

Mr. Pearson smirked at Sam, confident in his immunity with the officers at his side. "Sam used his telekinesis, and _very_ nearly gravely injured one boy."

"Very _nearly_?" Mary questioned doubtfully. "How does that hold any water?"

Mr. Pearson turned to Mary, holding an expression of one superior to everyone. "Well, you see, the higher ups tend to not care how badly anyone was hurt, just that they were hurt." He laughed. "Why, I bet I could condemn Sam if one of those boys so much as got a nosebleed."

Mary walked forward slightly, standing next to her husband, shielding Sam further. "Let's just talk about this." Mary soothed. "There could be a compromise to be made."

Mr. Pearson raised a hand to his chin, considering the offer. He signalled to the officers, who pulled back, with a sort of vicious reluctance that made Sam shiver. They reminded Sam of attack dogs, ready to tear him apart at any sudden moves.

"What sort of compromise?" Mr. Pearson prompted.

"We would be glad to pay for this boy's medical bills." Mary said. "And for any other inconvenience this incident has caused." Her voice sounded reasonable, and Sam mentally urged Mr. Pearson to accept, wishing he had the power of mental persuasion.

"Yes, of course." Mr. Pearson agreed, as though that were given. "But that merely punishes you, for not keeping an eye on Sam."

"Excuse me?" Mary asked, feigning sweetness, her eyes alight with anger.

"Sam must be punished for his actions." Mr. Pearson stated plainly. "How will he learn if this behavior is encouraged with a lack of consequence?"

"You mean you want to punish self-defense?" Dean's voice came from the top of the stairs. He walked down slowly, each step accented with a creak of the stairs. "That's all he was doing. Those boys made the first move."

"Did you witness this? Firsthand?" Mr. Pearson snapped.

"I've witnessed TJ's cruelty before." Dean explained. "He always makes the first move." He reached the bottom of the stairs, and he held a strong stance, staring down Mr. Pearson steadily.

"What he has done in the past is irrelevant." Mr. Pearson dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "We're talking about Sam here."

"Fine." Dean agreed. "But none of the boys were seriously injured, were they?"

"The possibilty that they could have been is our largest concern." Mr. Pearson stated. "Our second concern is that his Carers are not doing their job to control him."

Sam clenched his fists in anger. Mr. Pearson was talking as if Sam wasn't there. As if he was too stupid to understand what was going on. In one motion, he pushed through John and Mary.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked tightly. Mr. Pearson turned his sharp gaze to Sam.

A smirk grew on Mr. Pearson's face. "Well, Sam, perhaps a Relocation would rectify your behavior."

Sam felt his stomach drop to his shoes, and his heart climbed into his throat. Fear made his heart pound like a jackhammer. He couldn't be Relocated again. The look in his social workers gaze made it clear to Sam that the Committee really was tired of trying to find him a good Care home. If he was going to be Relocated anywhere, it would be to a camp.

He swallowed with difficulty, and forced his words out. "There has to be another option."

Mr. Pearson chuckled. "Right. Why? Because you want there to be?"

"No. Because the Committee doesn't like to send psychics to camps without trying every other option first. Costs too much to just throw them in there willy-nilly." Sam explained rationally. Mr. Pearson narrowed his eyes angrily, and Sam could tell that he had won.

"Fine. There is one other option." Mr. Pearson admitted through gritted teeth. "Sam has to see a counselor for an hour every other day." He met Sam's eyes when he said this, and Sam could see the satisfaction in those cold snake eyes.

"What?!" Sam gasped.

"That's the deal. Take it or leave it." Mr. Pearson said smoothly.

"We'll take it." Mary said hurriedly.

Mr. Pearson grinned again. "I thought you might."

"Can we pick the counselor, or do you have that covered as well?" John asked sarcastically.

Mr. Pearson grinned, unaware of the animosity. "Yes, in fact, I have one in mind." He held out a small clip of paper, with the supposed Doctor's name written on top. Mary took it and inspected the text, frowning slightly.

"I don't recognize the name." She said accusingly. "Who is he?"

"Oh, just someone new to the field." Mr. Pearson said dismissively, waving a hand.

A low growl came from the living room. Bones stood with his nose pointed aggressively, staring down the three men. Mr. Pearson's eyes widened slightly. He backed away cautiously. As he exited he spat some parting remarks at the family.

"This is his last chance." He threatened. "After this, Sam will be sent to a camp. You have been warned." With that he slammed the door shut.

Bones dropped the harsh look, and jauntily bounced over to Sam, tail wagging, tongue hanging out goofily.

_I did good. Want to play? _

Sam cracked a smile at the expression on the dog's face, but merely ruffled Bone's ears, and moved away slightly.

"How do you manage to get yourself into situations like this?" Dean asked, feigning ease, but the tension was clear in his body language. He wasn't sure where he and Sam stood after the fight.

Sam looked up at Dean, saw the apology in his eyes, and smiled in response. "It's a gift." He said loftily, quirking an eyebrow for comic effect. He walked over to Dean, and lightly punched him in the shoulder. "One I've learned from you."

Dean laughed, and threw an arm over Sam's shoulders, and the boys walked toward the kitchen, Bones trailing excitedly after them.

"At least all you have to deal with is a stupid shrink." Dean commented as they made their way. "I have to go to school in the morning." He spoke the word like it was a curse, spitting out the word harshly.

"Not quite." Mary stopped them. The boys turned looking back at her.

"Sam, I signed you up for school." She said sternly. "You start tomorrow."

* * *

The man sat on his computer, clicking through the different results to the tests he was consulting. The small whimpers from the form in the cage by the wall irked at him, working his last nerve. Finally, he snapped at the shape, shivering on the cold metal.

"Be quiet, or I'll shut you up." He threatened in a low voice. The shape tucked itself down tighter, trying to muffle the sobs.

The man stood up in disgust, stomping over to the cage. He gripped the metal bars, rattling them violently. The figure shrieked, and scrambled to the far side of the cage, where it cowered against the bars, shaking like a leaf.

The man forced himself to stop. He stood up carefully, restraining himself. He regarded the creature before him with a forced calm, easing his fists out of their clenched position, and taking up a more sensible tone of voice.

"Now, will you...please...quiet down?" He asked quietly. The creature in the cage merely curled up tighter, but held it's cries in, silent tears running down it's face.

The man sighed. "There, that's not so hard, is it?"

"Please." A hoarse voice emanated from form. The shape scooted out into the light, and his curly auburn hair shone dully in the light. The young boy shivered, his hands quaking with nervous tremors. "I j-just want t-to go h-h-home." He stuttered, his voice hoarse from use.

The man smiled gently, and crouched down, poking a finger through the criss-crossed thin bars of the cage. The boy's eyes widened, and he lunged backwards, hitting the back of the cage with a _crash! _The man's smile faltered for a moment, and then he merely sighed.

"You are home." He said calmly. "I will take care of you." Tears spilled over the boys eyelids, and trickled down his cheeks. The man tutted, and shook his head. He stood up, grabbed something on his desk, and walked back over to the boy. When the boy caught sight of the object in the man's hand, he started shaking his head and pleading.

"No, please! Please!" He begged. He crammed himself as far away from the man as he could, but the man only gripped a chain attached to the boy's wrists, and yanked him to the front of the cage.

The boy whimpered as the man opened a section of the bars to pull one of his wrists through. The man held tightly onto his wrist, and gently poked the needle through his tender skin. The boy cried, but didn't struggle. Gradually, his crying faded, and his body relaxed, going limp in the cage.

"There, now." The man murmured. "This will help you sleep."

The man gently set the boy down. He opened the door for a moment, to arrange the boy in a more comfortable position. He lovingly stroked the boy's curls out of his face, and then pulled back, re-locking the cage. He gazed down at the boy, with pride shining in his face. In the deep silence, his next words were clear and distinct.

"Sleep well, Max."

* * *

**Oohhh...what now?**

**Please tell me your guesses. I love hearing them, and I promise no spoilers. : )**

**I have no idea when the next chapter will be up. *shrug* Just keep an eye out. (But know that more reviewers means I'm more motivated) **_**Hint, hint!**_

**Cheers!**


	6. Shank or Shiv

**I'm super grateful for all the support this story has generated. I'm glad people are enjoying it. : )**

**Disclaimer: I do no…*sniffle*...own the show, the characters, or…*sob* the boys. ; )**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 6 - Shank or Shiv**

* * *

Sam shot straight up in bed, heart pounding furiously. He took a few calming breaths, steadying his breathing.

_We don't want you here. _

_You don't belong here. _

_Go, Sam. Just go. _

The words echoed through his head, resonating louder with every turn. Sam felt tears sting his eyes, and he bit his lip tightly, suppressing them.

His dreams had been a mish mash of many old classics, involving the same old Last Day dream, a dream about his time at the Waiting Home, and some strange nightmare involving a clown and a pack of rabid donkeys. But near the end, he had gotten a sliver of a good dream, a happy memory.

_Daniel grinned sheepishly up from his Legos, gripping a small red bar in his young hands. _

"_Help me, Sammy." He pleaded. "They're being stupid." _

_Sam laughed, crouching down. "What's the problem." _

"_This one won't stick to this one." Daniel complained, demonstrating. Sam nodded thoughtfully. _

"_Well, you could always…" He started, and suddenly pounced on Daniel, pinning him to the ground. "Tickle war!" He shouted, poking Daniel harshly in the stomach. Daniel screeched with laughter. _

"_Stop it!" He cried, giggling hysterically. "Sammy, stop!"_

Sam snapped back to the present, Daniel's laughter still ringing in his ears. He gripped the edge of the comforter, sadness overwhelming him momentarily. He would never see Daniel again. Never see his sweet, innocent little brother, ever again.

And not just because he was a psychic, and never to see his family again. Not just because he wasn't supposed to have any sort of contact with his previous life. No, he would never see Daniel even if he somehow managed to give this family the slip. Even if he could track down his family, and convince them to talk to him, for a minute. He wouldn't see Daniel.

He wouldn't see Daniel, because two months after Sam left, Daniel was shot, after running away from home to look for Sam. Two months after Sam left, Daniel left his home, searching for an older brother that was long gone.

Daniel was dead. But that wasn't even the worst part. The worst part was that Sam's psychic powers had chosen that moment to flare up.

He had watched it happen. He had watched his younger brother die.

* * *

Dean sat up creakily, feeling stiff. He stretched out his arms, revelling the feeling of stiff joints popping.

"Sam," He said, yawning. "Wake up, man. We got school." He glanced over at his bed, the one Sam was staying in, and blinked, shocked. Sam was sitting on the edge, already dressed, his bed made.

"Wow." Dean said. "You must be pretty excited about school, huh?"

Sam cracked a smile, but his eyes didn't display the same emotion. "Something like that." he muttered. He stood up, walking over to the door. "I'll be downstairs." He informed Dean, and left quickly.

Dean flopped back against his pillow, his mind full of concern. The circles under Sam's eyes worried him.

_Did he get any sleep at all last night? _Dean wondered.

Reluctantly, he rolled off his bed, and grabbed a t-shirt and pair of jeans. He pulled them on, and rushed downstairs. Sam stood by the counter, holding a plate with a meager piece of toast on it.

"Come on, Mom." He protested. "You're sending him into battle with toast for breakfast?" He ruffled Sam's hair. "He'll need all the energy he can get."

"This is what he asked for." Mary defended herself. She looked down at Sam, dipping her head slightly, concern etching across her face.

"Sam, you're not worried about school, are you?" Mary asked. She pulled Sam's chin up to see his eyes, pity racing through her heart at the fear residing in them.

"No," Sam whispered hoarsely, jerking his chin out of her grip. He let out a breathy laugh, void of any humor. "After all, what's to worry about? Just a building full of kids who probably hate my guts." He blew out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'd be surprised if I made it home in one piece."

Dean placed a hand on his shoulder. "I won't let them hurt you, Sam." He promised.

Sam smiled, but he didn't meet Dean's eyes. "Sure." He agreed quietly.

* * *

_Sam sat shivering on the cold metal table, the paper gown providing no warmth. He curled his arms around his legs, attempting to conserve body heat. He caught sight of the plastic bracelet now decorating his wrist. _

_Samuel 87763 TK - TP _

_His name. His number. His powers. _

_His identity. This was who he was now. A name, a number, and a couple letters summed up his entire existence. _

_Sam couldn't believe that less than 24 hours ago, he had been normal. Worried about homework, and football practice. Now…he had no idea where he was. No, scratch that. He knew where he was. He was where the psychics went. Where they were never seen again. _

_The door opened with a _whoosh_. Sam looked up in fear, his breath catching. _

_A man in a long white coat entered, flanked by two guards. The man had a severe expression, and cold, emotionless eyes. His nametag read Dr. Durang._

"_Please." Sam croaked, his throat sore from crying. "This is a mistake. I need to go home." _

_Dr. Durang laughed cruelly. "There are no mistakes, Samuel." He assured Sam. "And you are home. For now." _

_He nodded to the guards. "Take him. Let's get to Test Room B."_

_Sam felt fear seize up his throat. He shook his head frantically, scooting away as far as he could, until the shackle on his ankle went taut. He felt tears stinging his eyes, and he blinked them away. He would never cry in front of this man. Ever. _

_The two guards gripped his arms, and unattached the shackle. They dragged him out of the room, Sam fighting every inch of the way._

They can't break me._ He promised himself. _They will _never_ break me.

* * *

Sam's head jerked up when the car jolted to a stop. Dean cursed.

"Geez, Mom, go easy on the brakes, huh?" He protested grumpily.

Sam blinked the sleep from his eyes. On the way to school, his eyes had apparently decided to catch up on the much needed sleep he had missed last night.

"Sorry," Mary apologized. "I'm just…" She glanced back in the rearview mirror at Sam. "Stressed." She finished.

"Well, relax, okay?" Dean grumbled snappily. "I'd rather _not_ die on the way to school."

Mary sighed, and pulled into the school parking lot. Sam looked out the window as the car slowed to a stop. Mary stepped out, and opened Sam's door. He stepped out, stretching for a moment. Looking up at the large high school, Sam felt his knees go weak.

His hand reached up to grab his tag, covering up the words printed on it. He swallowed, looking over at Dean with wide eyes. Dean offered a half smile, and walked over to Sam. He placed a hand firmly on Sam's shoulder.

"You ready?" He asked. Sam looked up, uncertain.

Mary walked over, and looked at Sam with a gentle expression. "I can go in with you if you want." She suggested. "I got all the paperwork figured out before today, but…" She trailed off.

Sam shook his head. He was already going to be the freak at school. He didn't want to be labeled as the baby as well.

"Okay." Mary said, unsure. "Will you two ride the bus home?" She asked.

"Probably," Dean guessed. "If we need a ride, I'll call you." With that, he pulled Sam toward the large building.

Dean led the way to the school, Sam trailing behind him. As they entered, Sam shivered at the smell. It smelled too clean. Like the labs. His throat tightened against the gag reflex it triggered. Sam took a deep breath through his mouth, and exhaled sharply.

_I can do this._ He told himself. _Just get through today. Second by second. _

There were kids coating both sides of the hallway. At first, they didn't seem to take notice of either of them. But, as they walked past, one of the kids turned to their friend and whispered in their ear. Sam trained his eyes on the floor, but he heard the murmurs.

"...attacked TJ's gang…"

"...a psychic…"

"...almost _killed_ a few of them…"

Sam felt his face burn, even though he knew that he shouldn't be ashamed. TJ had attacked first. He hadn't done anything wrong. But he knew that wasn't how the outside world would see it.

Sam glanced up at Dean, to see him glaring at the kids around them. After catching his eye, the kids quickly averted their eyes, still gossiping among themselves. Dean wrapped an arm over Sam's shoulders for a moment, before stepping away. He nodded at the row of lockers to their right.

"Your locker number's 443." He told him. "Mom told me."

Sam nodded silently, feeling his heart pound in his throat. He adjusted the strap of his backpack, and walked toward the locker. The kids parted to allow him to find his locker. He fiddled with the lock for a moment, before it popped open.

"Just keep your head down and you won't get shived." A girl's voice next to him said.

Sam's head jerked up, and he looked at the girl in shock. She had black, chin length hair, colored with purple streaks. She wore black tights under ripped jeans, and a purple long sleeved shirt, with some kind of black vest over it.

Sam recovered his voice enough to shakily speak. "Shanked." He corrected.

"Excuse me?" The girl questioned, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Shanked." Sam repeated. "A shive is meant for cutting. Shanks are for stabbing." His voice faded out, and he averted his gaze to the floor, certain that he had just scared away the one person here that had showed an interest in an alliance.

However, the girl merely laughed. "Sure. You some kind of genius?"

Sam cracked a smile. "Don't have to be a genius. Just a good memory."

"Let me clue you in on a little secret." The girl leaned in conspiratorially. "That's basically the same thing." She whispered.

"I'm Maia." She informed him. Maia took a confident pose, leaning up against the lockers. Most of the other kids around them had cleared away, heading towards their classes. As two of them walked away, Sam caught the last of their conversation.

"Kind of fitting, ya know?" One whispered. "Freak and Psycho."

Sam stared after the person for a moment, surprised at the hurt he felt. Maia snapped her fingers in front of Sam's face. "Don't listen to them." She ordered quietly, her face subdued. Sam saw her gaze flicker to his tag, and then back up to his face.

Her expression brightened, and her attitude reappeared. "So, you go by any other name than Psycho?"

"Sam." He whispered after a stunned pause.

"Well, Sam." Maia gestured broadly around her at the empty hallway, most people in their classrooms by now. "Welcome to Lawrence High."

Someone brushed by her angrily, bumping her shoulder. "Watch it, Freak." They snapped at her, before rushing on.

Maia took no notice, merely pausing for a moment. "I think you'll find that we have much in common."

* * *

**I think I promised someone that this would be out last Friday. **

**Oops. **

**I hope you liked it. Please let me know if you did. **


	7. Vision

**Hey guys! I am getting a ton of support for this story, and I can't believe that everyone likes it so much. Thanks to everyone who's followed and/or favorited, and a big thanks to those who've reviewed. I love all of the encouragement.**

**Chapter 7 - Vision**

* * *

Sam held back a groan as the teacher up front droned on and on. The teacher, Mr. Darwin, who had a large belly and small face, gestured languidly back at the whiteboard, which had pre-algebra problems scrawled sloppily across the surface.

Sam gazed down at his notebook with disregard. He had learned all of this before. Even before he was taken, he had participated in all of the advanced classes he could. He had been learning pre-algebra when he was twelve.

After he was taken, he didn't go to school much. He was deemed to "unpredictable" and "unstable" to be in a "partially unsupervised environment". However, he hadn't stopped learning. He had stayed up for stolen hours on the computer, learning into the night.

He had almost finished a calculus course from a free program at his last Care home. And here he was, learning pre-algebra. Again.

Maia sat beside him, dumb luck having given them three out of the five classes together. She caught Sam's eye, and rolled her's in an exaggerated motion. Sam smiled.

"Does anyone want to complete this problem on the board?" Mr. Darwin drawled. He looked across the room lazily, gazing at the roomful of unenthusiastic children.

Sam watched as the teacher's eye settled on him. He saw Mr. Darwin zero in on the tag, and then back up to Sam's face. Mr. Darwin's eyes narrowed, and Sam slumped slightly, knowing from experience that he had just gained an enemy.

"How about our new student shows us?" He suggested. A small triumphant smile made it's way onto Mr. Darwin's small piggy face. He knew that psychics were very rarely educated, and had a vastly limited knowledge of the things normal kids learned in school.

_He's trying to make a fool of me._ Sam realized. He felt a bud of satisfaction settle in his stomach. _Just you wait and see, Darwin._

Sam stood up, keeping his face void of any emotion, and walked briskly up to the board. He pulled a marker off of the ledge and quickly worked out the problem, circling the answer at the end. He plunked the marker down, and spun around, walking just as smoothly to his seat. There were murmurs of kids around him, some jealous, some reluctantly admiring, and others scornful.

Sam met Maia's eyes, and she stifled a laugh. Sam had to hold back his own amusement, watching Mr. Darwin floundering for words at the front of the room.

Finally, he seemed to regain control of his tongue. "Well, I can see that we have a _prodigy _in our midst." He sneered, glaring at Sam. "Let us _hope_ that we can strive to be as successful as he."

Sam's satisfaction vanished as the faces of the kids around him turned hostile. His face burned, and he stared at his hands for the remaining class time, unsure exactly why he felt ashamed.

When the bell finally rang, saving him, he dashed out into the hallway, Maia following closely. Sam walked briskly toward his next class, which he and Maia did not share.

"Wait, Sam." She protested. "He's just jealous, he doesn't like being shown up."

"I can tell." Sam muttered. He sped up, trying to lose her.

Maia reached out a hand, and grabbed Sam's arm. She pulled him to a stop, gripping him tightly as she caught her breath.

"Stop, Sam." She ordered breathlessly. "Don't let him get to you, okay? That was amazing, no matter what anyone else says."

Sam slumped. "No matter what I do, they hate me." He looked up at Maia in desperation as kids started to trail by.

"Don't you think I realize that?" Maia whispered, staring at Sam intently. "I've always been called a freak, for one thing or another. Finally, I just decided to stop caring."

"But I do care!" Sam objected. "How can I not care?"

"By focusing on the people that like and love you anyway." Maia answered with certainty. "Now go to class." She lightly shoved him away. "I'll wait for you at lunch, kay?"

"Okay." Sam relented, and he stood immobile for a moment, watching her walk away.

* * *

Sam stared up at the clock, silently begging it to move faster. Just five minutes until the bell rang, and school would be over.

Mrs. Bennet, the language arts teacher, stabbed a slender finger at the board. She shrieked loudly, spouting verbs and infinitives excitedly. Sam pressed a hand against his skull, the woman's voice gradually creating a headache behind his eyes.

Finally, the blissfully loud bell rang out, and the kids scrambled to gather their things and head for the bus. Sam took his time, safe in the knowledge that Dean would call his mother to pick them up.

When Sam walked into the hallway, it was still partially crowded with stragglers. Searching briefly, he found Maia, hanging out by the water fountains. She caught his eye and perked up, walking over to him.

"So, how was "language arts"? She asked with a dramatic flourish. "Did you just love, love, love, lovelovelovelove it?" She asked in a cruel depiction of Mrs. Bennet.

Sam laughed softly, wincing as her squeaky tone brought his headache back with a sharp pang. He looked over at Maia. "Thanks." He said breezily, attempting nonchalance.

"For what?" Maia questioned, copying his air of ease.

"You know, helping me out." He answered, shrugging. "When no one else would."

"That guy you came in with seemed pretty cool." Maia remembered. "He a friend?"

"He's…" Sam hesitated. "Dean. My brother." A smile burst onto his face as he realized how easily the word came to him. Brother. His brother.

Maia smiled back, seemily understanding. "Dean." She thought for a moment. "He's hot." She decided. "He's got that whole bad boy thing going for him, you know?"

Sam laughed. "What does that make me? Adorable? Like a puppy?"

Maia leaned in closely, her breath tickling his ear for a moment. "Please, Sam. Girls love puppies." Then she pulled back, her face a flustered pink.

Sam grinned broadly at her discomfort, his own face a shade of magenta. Suddenly, he pressed a hand against his temple as the pain grew to a pulsing pain, feeling like a small pocketknife being stabbed into his head.

"Ah," He moaned, reaching out for the wall for support. He closed his eyes, fear closing in on him when the light was distorted by flashes of images of some other place. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Maia.

"Sam?" Maia's voice sounded slightly distant, and muffled, like he was hearing her underwater. Her voice also sounded laced with concern. Sam opened his mouth, to assure her that it would pass, that he would be fine, but a pained moan is the only sound he could make.

Sam felt something slam into his backside, and then onto his side. He felt cool linoleum on his cheek, and in the back of his mind, he concluded that he must have fallen.

The pain grew to an agonizing level, and his cry of pain was louder, echoing down the halls of the school. The flashes grew more intense, the images flickering in front of his vision.

_A girl with straight brown hair walked down the hallway of a school._

Sam fought to pull himself out of the vision. He didn't want to. Didn't want to see it. Another death. One he couldn't stop.

_She glanced over her shoulder, at the group of kids about to pass her. Her eyes widened in slight fear. _

NO! He struggled uselessly to force his eyes open, to see Maia, Dean, Mary, anyone other than this girl. _Please,_ He silently begged. _I don't want to see it. _

With a sharp stab of pain, he felt all traces of the real world slip away, until there was nothing but this hallway, this girl.

_She huddled against the wall to avoid them, but they still crashed straight into her, not bothering to step away at all. _

"_Watch it, Psychic." One of them spat. Another shoved the books out of her arms, sending them tumbling to the floor. _

_The girl avoided eye contact, ignoring them as she leaned down to pick up her books. The kids laughed cruelly, jostling each other as they sauntered away. _

_The girl sniffed, and looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears pricking her eyes. With a deep breath, she seemed to pull herself together. She stood up, her shoulders hunched. She trudged out to the parking lot, and glanced around bleakly. _

_She waited patiently, staring down at the sidewalk. Without warning, a red pickup truck screeched to a stop next to the girl, bearing no licence plates. She stared up in alarm, taking a few uncertain steps back. _

_A figure clothed in darkness leaped out of the truck, and came charging at the slight girl. She stumbled backwards, and tripped, landing solidly on the ground. The disguised man grabbed her roughly, yanking her to her feet. _

_The girl screamed in anger, fighting to get away from him. He shoved a hand into his back pocket and came out with a damp cloth. The stranger fixed their hand over the girl's mouth. Her eyes flared in panic, and she twisted her fragile frame, trying to regain freedom._

_The figure held fast, confining her. Gradually, her movements lost their jerky quality, and her struggles grew weak. The man quickly pulled the girl over to the truck, and tossed her in the backseat, after hastily binding her wrists and ankles. _

_The man jumped into the front seat, and pressed the pedal, sending the truck careening down the aisle, and out of the parking lot, a small cloud in it's wake._

* * *

Maia stared down at her friend in fear. He was curled in on himself, gripping his head, and making whimpering sounds. She leaned down cautiously, and extended a shaking hand.

"Sam?" Her voice barely came out as a whisper. She touched his shoulder lightly, he arched his back, letting out a shrill cry of pain.

Maia felt panic shoot through her. What was happening? Was _this _his psychic ability? Profound agony?

A teacher entered the hallway, looking up and down for the source of the sounds. Their eyes caught the form of a child curled up on the floor at the other end of the hallway. The teacher, Ms. Emile, turned back to her class of fifth graders, all looking at her in apprehension.

"Jason, hand me my phone." She ordered. The frightened child stumbled out of his seat, and rushed over to her desk. He rummaged around until he found the object of his search, and hurried to Ms. Emile.

She took the phone with a calming smile. "Thank you." She said to him. Jason walked back to his seat, and with a red face, sat down.

Ms. Emile scanned the faces of her pupils, searching for the most tranquil. Her gaze settled on Maria, a natural-born leader.

"Maria's in charge for now." Ms. Emile declared. The children turned to look at Maria, who sat up a little straighter, and fixed a look of confusion on her teacher.

"Just play a game or something until I or another teacher get back." She clarified.

With that, she ran out to the hallway, and toward the student, around whom a crowd was forming. Ms. Emile shoved her way through the kids, and kneeled next to a shocked girl. Ms. Emile recognized her as Maia, the troublemaker. Maia, who always kept a facade up, and never showed weakness. Maia, whose expression revealed her terror in that moment.

Ms. Emile took in the teenaged boy trembling on the floor. His fingers twisted into his hair, and his breath came in short, pained bursts. Ms. Emile frowned in concern. She opened her phone and quickly dialed 911. Holding the phone up to her ear, she explained to the operator the situation.

"We'll have an ambulance dispatched to your location within a few minutes." There was a pause. "ETA's five minutes."

Ms. Emile felt relief flood throughout her. She didn't want this boy to suffer. As she knelt by the boy, a small tag attached to a chain around his neck caught her attention. A mixture of fear and pity shot through her heart. Poor boy. Poor, poor boy.

Maia looked up at Ms. Emile, and then at the phone. 911. She'd called 911. Maia wasn't sure why, but she got the feeling that Sam didn't need a hospital. Call it her female intuition.

She turned to a kid behind her. Gabriel, a gentle sixth grader. Maia reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Hey, I need you to find someone for me, okay?" The girl, who had been staring in a mix of fear and awe at Sam, turned her gaze to Maia. She nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Dean Winchester." Maia answered. Her head jerked up as the sound of sirens became heard. She turned back to Gabriel.

"Find him fast."

* * *

**There you go. Hope you enjoyed. **

**If you did, let me know. : )**

**Cheers!**


	8. Problems

**I don't think a long intro is needed here… **

**You all know how grateful I am. : )**

**Without further ado…**

**Chapter 8 - Problems**

* * *

Like before. It was just like before. A sharp pain in his head, echos of the vision reverberating in his skull. The strange numbness that accompanied the aftermath of a vision, radiating throughout his whole body.

Voices spoke, muffled, just outside of his hearing. Sam didn't try to hear them, wanting to stay deep in the dark, where it was safe, and quiet, and didn't hurt so much.

Dean. The name drifted through his consciousness. Dean would be worried.

_Let him worry._ Part of Sam's brain argued. _I don't want to wake up. _

But Sam couldn't do that. Not after everything Dean had done for him. He couldn't scare him like that.

Grudgingly, Sam started to painstakingly pull himself to the surface. The darkness clinged to him like syrup, urging him to drift back down, fall asleep, relax. Sam resisted, pushing harder to wake up.

As the darkness turned to light, the pain became sharper. The regular, post-vision pain he was accustomed to was present, but so was another pain. A deeper pain, on the side of his head.

The pain was dull, but strong, almost pulsing to affect the whole right side of his head. A bout of nausea overtook him for a moment.

Sam pried his eyes open, and the sense of nausea grew more powerful with the dizziness that presented itself. Everything around him was a strange blur, and nothing was focusing. Sam felt a seed of fear plant itself deep in his chest. Voices echoed around him, growing louder and clearer, and then fading to murmurs.

"...Sam..._hear me…"_

"...clear a path..._make way…_"

"_...vitals...fine..._check him...ER."

Something about the voices made Sam anxious. The words they said, the way they said them, just scared him. Sam wanted to run away. Fast.

Sam tried to move a hand, but couldn't tell if he succeeded. Panic made him whimper, and mentally, he begged for the one person he thought could make this better.

Dean.

"D'n." He slurred, the people above him barely coming into focus. A severe-looking woman with brown hair pulled back into a tight bun had his wrist in her hand, and was taking his pulse. On his other side, a young man with long blondish hair, pulled back into a loose ponytail.

"What's that, kid?" The man asked gently. He reached up toward Sam's face, and placed a mask over his mouth and nose.

Terror shot through Sam's veins, and he let out a strangled noise, lurching to the side. He coughed terrifically, and moaned, the twisting in his stomach made even worse by the ache in his head.

They had never hurt this bad. Slight discomfort afterwards, that was all. What had caused this horrible pain, this pulsing ache?

"Whoa, slow down kid." The man grasped Sam's shoulders, straightening him out again. "We got you."

The movement shifted Sam's t-shirt, exposing his tag. Sam noticed even in his delirious state how the woman's lips tightened ever-so-slightly, and the man's hands faltered for a moment.

"Alec," The woman muttered. "Keep working. It doesn't matter."

The young man, only in his early twenties, nodded solemnly. He adjusted the mask fixed over Sam's mouth and nose, earning a scared moan in response. Alec placed a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Just hang in there, kid." Alec whispered. "Everything'll be fine."

Sam's vision started to go out again, but he barely made out a stretcher laid out next to him. He felt tears prick his eyes. He wanted Dean.

* * *

Dean stood at his locker, trying to remember what he had for homework. Math? Lit? Science? Finally, he gave up with a sigh, and slammed his locker shut. The metallic clang echoed down the hallway, though there was nearly no one left to hear it. Most of the kids were on the bus home by now.

Dean shouldered his backpack, and started down the hallway, trying to remember where the freshman hallway was. As he wandered slowly down the senior section of the school, a girl came careening out of a hallway to the right.

Automatically, Dean thought, _Yeah, that's where the freshman hallway is…_ Then his brain lit up in alarm. He broke into a run toward the girl, who was twisting her head back and forth, obviously on the lookout for someone. Dean felt dread seep through his veins.

"Hey!" He called out to her as he got close. "You looking for someone?"

The girl slowed to a stop, her hands on her knees, sucking in deep breaths. She looked up at him, her soft brown hair in braids over both shoulders.

"Are...are you...Dean...Winch…"She gasped, still desperately out of breath.

"Winchester?" He finished for her. She nodded rapidly.

"Well, you found me." He affirmed grimly. "What do you want?"

He saw the relief in her eyes at finding him, and yet there was a fear, a shaken presence there that unsettled Dean. The sense of dread was increasing with every second he spent with this girl.

"Some freshman...collapsed...concussion...taking him to….hospital…" She wheezed. "Maia told me...find...Dean…."

Dean felt frozen. Sam. It had to be him. Was it a vision? Did someone beat him up?

Dean felt himself moving before he realized he was. He felt numb, and at the same time, there was a sense of urgency, and horrible, paralyzing, helplessness.

_I'm coming, Sammy. _He thought determinedly to himself. _I'm coming. _

Dean tore down the hallways, dodging a few teachers in the process. He lurched around a corner, and came to a T intersection, looking down both paths. Dismay gripped him as he realized that he didn't know where his little brother was. He was suffering, alone, and scared somewhere, and Dean had no idea how to find him.

As his frantic heartbeat calmed slightly, he became aware of a siren echoing down the right hallway. Without hesitation, Dean sprinted down the hallway, coming to a stop by the entrance to the school.

An ambulance sat outside the school, and two EMT's were starting to pull the doors closed. Inside, Dean saw a figure lying on a cot, struggling weakly. His head raised, and the soft hazel eyes met Dean's.

"No!" Dean cried, shoving through the crowd of kids, desperately trying to reach Sam. His little brother. As he pried open the doors of the school, the ambulance peeled away, siren screeching. Dean ran his hands anxiously through his hair, and regretting asking his mom for a ride home. Dean had thought Sam might like to see a familiar face right after school, some kind of repetition.

_Guess that's off the table,_ Dean thought bitterly. He fumbled for his phone in his backpack, and brought it out with shaking fingers.

"Mom?" Dean's voice shook. "We have a problem."

* * *

Ava was cloaked in darkness.

It was soft, and calm. Cold, too, but after everything Ava had been through, she'd learned to look on the bright side.

She felt relaxed, like everything was fine. Ava knew something was wrong. This situation wasn't quite right. But she didn't dig deep to find an answer. She just wanted to enjoy the quiet and peacefulness.

But she couldn't keep those treacherous thoughts out of her brain for long.

_Where am I?_

_What happened?_

Ava fought to fall back into that oblivion, but she could feel her body slowly waking up, dragging her consciousness along for the ride. Reluctantly, she surfaced.

It was dark. But not like the other dark, the comforting dark. This was a sinister dark, forged in fear.

Her breath whistled loudly, too loudly. She quickly quieted it, and glanced about her.

Cold metal surrounded her, bars on all sides. A cage.

Ava's heart lurched. Was she in jail? What had she done?

"Hello?" She called out uncertainly, her voice harsh and sudden in the silence.

"Shhh…" Someone to her right urged. She looked over warily, and could just make out a figure in the gloom, enclosed in a cage. A child. Like her.

"You have to be quiet." The boy insisted, his voice shaking. "Or else he'll hear you…"

"Who is it?" Ava asked, her heart galloping. She attempted to scoot forward for a better view of her companion, and was startled by a clinking at her side. Glancing down, she couldn't hold back a whimper at the sight of the shackle on her wrist, the chain extending to the outside of the cage.

Ava felt her fear overlayed with a desperate determination. She crawled toward the bars on her hands and knees, as it cage was short, as if meant for a dog. She gripped the bars, peering out into the gloom.

Suddenly, the door swung open. Ava's head snapped over to look, and she shrank back slightly. The boy in the other cage whimpered.

A man walked into her line of vision. He stood tall, with his hands casually in his deep labcoat pockets. His hair was short, and graying, and but his shoulders were strong.

However, the most prominent feature of his was his eyes. Bright, clear, icy blue. They penetrated her mind, and chilled her to the bone. The man leaned down slowly, lowering himself to his knees.

Ava watched him like he was a snake, never taking her eyes off of him or blinking. The man reached out a hand, as if he wanted to touch her, but then thought better of it, and pulled back.

"Where am I?" She asked clearly, proud that despite her fear, her voice was steady, and calm.

"Where you need to be." The man said vaguely, nodding solemnly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ava asked sharply, narrowing her eyes.

The man offered a slight smile. A long pause ensued. "I'm bringing the group together." He said suddenly.

Ava narrowed her eyes. "What group? What are you talking about?"

The man gazed at her in amusement, his icy blue eyes twinkling. "Don't you worry about it, dear Ava."

Ava felt her heart lurch. How did he know her name?

She felt a tug on her wrist. The man was gripping the chain that extended to her wrist. She yelped and scrambled backwards, clinging to the bars. The man tsked, and yanked harshly on the chain, pulling her forward. She was dragged forward, knees skinning against the ground.

The man opened a section of the bars, easing her hand through as to not bruise her skin against the edge of one of the bars. He took out a small syringe from his pocket.

"No…" Ava moaned, horrible memories rushing back at her. "Please, don't…"

"Shh…" The man soothed her. Suddenly, he slid the needle in, pushing down the plunger. Ava cried out, and turned her face away.

"There," The man sighed. "Now you should be able to sleep."

Ava collapsed onto the cool metal floor, her vision already tunneling. With her remaining strength, she dragged herself back sluggishly, away from the front of the cage.

"Stay...away…" Ava slurred. "Leave me… 'lone." Her head dipped, and she couldn't find the strength to pull it back up.

"Sleep, little Ava." The man murmured to her. "I'll bring you some new friends soon."

* * *

Sam blinked his eyes open, nausea twisting and turning in his stomach like a rabid animal. He groaned, trying to roll over, but something stopped him. Lifting his head slightly, he saw a blanket covering his body.

Sam jerked his hand up, but it was pinned to the mattress by some sort of restraint. He layed his head back, taking in controlled breaths, trying to get a handle on the wide feeling of confinement racing through his body. Gently tugging on each of his other limbs confirmed that he was being held to the mattress by wrists and ankles.

_Don't panic. Don't panic. _Sam urged himself, even though his heart was already beginning to race. Flashes of older, harsher restraints danced into his memory. Syringes. Scanners. Doctors in masks. Labcoats. Tables.

Sam tried to control his labored breathing, but it escalated anyway. Sam's vision began to fuzz over as he hyperventilated.

Sam jerked against the restraints, thrashing even harder when none of them gave way. He felt tears run down his face, and he felt light headed. He had to get out. Now.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Footsteps came pounding into the room. Sam cringed away from them, not wanting their probing fingers touching him, their big machines, their harsh voices shouting in his ear.

"Sammy!" Someone shouted, a voice full of distress, and Sam's heart automatically relaxed in relief and then seized up in desperate longing.

"Dean!" Sam sobbed, and collapsed against the sheets. He kept his eyes closed, crying. He felt someone sit down next to him, and he opened his eyes to see Dean gazing down at him in relief and worry.

"Really, Sammy, how in the world do you get into situations like this?" Dean whispered, laying a hand on his shoulders. His face was relaxed, attempting nonchalance, but Sam could clearly see the worry and concern. "This is more than something you learned from me. This is clearly all you."

Sam tried to smile, but the pressure of the cuffs on his wrists was beginning to choke him again, making him feel like there was a restraint over his neck as well. He swallowed down the bile that rose as the feeling of confinement became stronger.

"Dean." Sam rasped. "Take them off."

Dean frowned in confusion, then his eyes moved to the blanket. His eyes narrowed, as if to say, _They wouldn't dare…_ He pulled back the sheet, and hissed at the sight of the cuffs.

"Take them off." Sam begged. "I….I can't breathe."

Another person walked around his bed. John looked down in concern. Dean glared up at his father.

"Dad." He spat through gritted teeth. "They put him in cuffs."

John nodded. He reached down and jerked one of the cuffs open in one smooth motion. Then he pulled the blanket down further, and opened the one ankle cuff open. Dean grinned and followed suit, yanking both of the right cuffs open.

Sam sat up, gasping in relief. He shuddered once, drawing his knees his chest. He wrapped his arms around them, and placed his forehead against his knees, taking a few steadying breaths.

Sam felt a hand touch his shoulder, bracing him. It was heavier than Dean's, who slid his own arm around Sam. John, showing his silent support. Another loud sob escaped Sam, though he tried to choke it down.

"Shh, Sammy," Dean soothed. "We're here now."

"M-Mary?" Sam stuttered. Calling her by her name almost seemed wrong. It insinuated that she was merely a friend, or an acquaintance. In reality, she was so much more than that. In the short time he had known her, she had shown him more acceptance and love than anyone had in two long years. It was the same with Dean, and even John, though Sam didn't know him as well.

"She'll be up as soon as she can." John assured Sam. "She dropped us off at the entrance and went to find a parking spot."

Sam nodded absently, taking slow controlled breaths. A sudden breeze on his back gave him chills, and he felt his face redden with self consciousness. He was wearing a long hospital gown, and dark blue hospital pants.

"I want to go home." He whispered, pleased that the home he pictured was the Winchester's quaint little house.

"I know." Dean agreed. "We'll get home just as soon as we can."

Sam groaned suddenly, his head breaking out in a fierce ache. Dean gripped his arm in concern.

"What? Sammy, you okay?" He asked urgently, looking Sam up and down.

"Headache." Sam moaned. He looked up to see Dean and John exchanging a worried glance. "It's not a vision-headache." He grumbled. "Just a normal, head-splitting one."

Dean rubbed Sam's shoulders as Sam set his head back onto his knees. "Hang in there." He whispered. "We'll get you out of here as soon as we can."

Without warning, the door to Sam's room opened again, and a doctor walked in holding a clip board, flanked by a nurse. He glanced up lazily, and took a shocked step back at the sight of Sam sitting up.

"He-he can't be up." The doctor protested. "It's against every regulation regarding psychics!"

Sam pulled his head up, but dropped it again when he saw the doctor's frenzied expression. This was old news. He knew how people thought of him.

John narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "Sam is not going back into the restraints." He stated firmly, a slight threat underlying his statement.

The doctor looked regretful to stand against the likes of John Winchester, but he still spoke. "He has to. It's hospital policy."

"I don't care about your hospital policy!" John shouted. Sam flinched, but wasn't afraid. "Sam didn't do anything, and won't do anything!"

"Sir, he has to." The man still protested, looking more and more like a child begging to be right.

John opened his mouth to lay into the doctor even more, but Dean intervened. "What exactly is wrong with Sam?" he questioned.

"He collapsed." The doctor replied grudgingly.

Dean narrowed his eyes as well. "I'm not an idiot. He had a vision. He's a psychic. Which you obviously know about since you stuck him in those." He gestured angrily to the cuffs.

"He had a mild concussion." The man informed them, almost coldly. "We figured it was slightly beneficial to him that we didn't leave him there to die of a stroke."

"So you drag him here and scare him half to death," Dean accused. Then he shook his head. "This doesn't matter. When can he come home?"

"We made sure it was only mild." The doctor assured them, while still disgruntled. "He should be fine to return home whenever."

"Now." Both elder Winchesters said, then looked at the other with a wry smile.

"Fine." The doctor confirmed. "I'll bring the release papers." With that, he left the room swiftly, trying to regain some of his lost dignity.

* * *

Sam leaned against the car window, still trying to get a handle on the slight motion sickness spinning in his stomach. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then jerked them open again.

_Closed is worse. _He confirmed to himself. _Closed is definitely worse._

"How you doing, Sam?" Mary asked from the drivers seat. She glanced back at him in the rearview mirror, worry infesting her gaze. Sam shot her a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Have heard from Pearson?" Dean asked. "Seems like this would be the kind of thing that he would wet his pants for."

"Not yet." John warned. "But I'm sure it's only a matter of-"

His phone buzzed in his pocket. John dug it out, glanced at the caller ID, and sagged. He groaned, running a hand over his face.

"Speak of the devil, and the devil shall appear," Mary muttered, her hands clenching the steering wheel, knuckles white.

John sighed, and raised the phone to his ear. "Pearson." He barked as a greeting. His eyes narrowed as the other party spoke, and then bugged out in shock. "You can't be serious!" He protested. "That's ridiculous!"

He pulled the phone away from his ear, and glanced back at Sam regretfully.

Sam felt fear sieze his heart. "What?" He croaked.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Pearson does not believe this is a viable reason to skip your session with Dr. Neville." John told Sam.

Sam relaxed. Not as bad as he thought it was going to be.

Besides, how bad could this Neville character be?

* * *

Mary pulled into the driveway of the house written on the business card. She gazed at it suspiciously, as did the rest of the car load. Then, reluctantly, She stepped out, everyone else following suit.

Sam walked next to Mary up to the house, an odd feeling of dread growing in his stomach as he did. She knocked on the door, a sound that reverberated in Sam's stomach, increasing his nausea.

The door opened promptly, and a man stepped out, a small smile on his face. The man looked about thirty, with a young face. However, Sam judged, he must have had a stressful job, as his hair was peppery, bordering on gray.

Sam met the man's eyes, and was chilled by the obvious intelligence in them. However, there was something...off about them. Perhaps it was how they looked too focused, like camera lenses that were about to take a snapshot. Or perhaps it was the strange way he seemed to only have eyes for Sam, glancing uninterestedly at the others, and ending up back at Sam.

Or, perhaps, it was the color. Sam had always thought of the color as comforting. But, he decided, on this man, it was creepy and chilling.

The man's eyes were a very bright shade of icy blue.

* * *

**There you go. Hope you enjoyed. I would love to see your reactions to everything that has happened. **

**Cheers!**


	9. History

**Chapter 9 - History**

* * *

Sam shuddered as the man grinned down at him. Finally, the man looked to John and Mary, and opened his door wide, a sweeping arm gesturing them inside.

"You must be…" Mary started, holding out a hand.

The man took her hand in his, gripping tightly. "Dr. Neville." He said in introduction.

Mary shook his hand with hesitation, narrowing her eyes as she assessed the man shrewdly. John reached forward and shook his hand as well. Dean hung back with Sam, his arm protectively wrapped around the younger boy.

Dr. Neville's gaze zeroed back on Sam. He smiled encouragingly at him, and then turned to his family.

"My sessions are private." He informed them quietly. "You may wait outside, but I need to be alone with Sam."

"No way." Dean disagreed. He took a small step toward the doctor, his stance widening.

The doctor took no notice. He merely focused on Mary and John. "Please." He opened the door again. "You're welcome to stay for a tour, but I doubt that Sam wants to be here for any longer than he has to."

Mary looked reluctantly at the open door, and met eyes with Sam, her expression conflicted. With a deep breath, Sam pulled away from Dean, nodding in agreement.

"It's okay." He assured the three. "I just want to get this over with."

Dr. Neville nodded, and grinned, as if everything were fine. "Of course."

As Mary, John, and Dean walked out, closing the door behind them, Sam felt dread closing in on all sides. His heart climbed into his throat, and he experienced the suffocating sense of claustrophobia. Sam's hand darted out and clutched the railing to the staircase nearby. He took a steadying breath, mentally urging himself to be strong.

When he looked up at the doctor, there was a fond amusement kindling in his eyes. It disturbed Sam.

"Please, Sam, take a seat in here." Dr. Neville gestured to the office. Somewhat reluctantly, Sam moved toward the room, glancing back over his shoulder to keep the man in his sights.

Dr. Neville closed the door behind them, a solid sounding _thunk_ that resonated inside Sam.

Dr. Neville took a seat in a chair adjacent to a cream couch. Hesitantly, Sam took a seat on the couch, sitting stiffly.

Dr. Neville sat back calmly, seeming at ease. "Please, Sam, make yourself at home."

Sam only narrowed his eyes, gingerly sitting back.

Dr. Neville sighed. "I can tell that this wasn't your idea, Sam. Your posture says as much." He stared Sam down until he shifted uncomfortably. "However, we do have an hour to spend in each other's company. So, we can either make it worth our while, or we can waste both of our time. Which do you prefer?"

Sam sighed. He leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. "This is stupid." He muttered. "Those kids were asking for it."

Dr. Neville smiled. He pulled something from his pocket, a phone, and pressed a few buttons, texting someone. "Of course they were."

* * *

Sam glanced disconcertingly up at the clock. Only ten minutes left. Throughout the course of the session, he had reluctantly offered bits of information. Dr. Neville had stayed patient, never demanding more of him than he was ready to offer. However, though most might say he was an excellent doctor, there was something about the way Dr. Neville fixed his eyes on him, that chilled him to his core.

"So, Sam," Dr. Neville leaned back in his chair, clasping his long fingers together. "There's one more thing I'd like to discuss."

"What?" Sam asked, his voice conveying his exhaustion.

"Your parents." Dr. Neville said. "How do you feel about them? And your brother?"

"Mary and John?" Sam said. "They're great. And Dean-"

Dr. Neville held up a hand, cutting him off. "Not what I meant, Sam. Your _real_ family. Your original family. Though it warms my heart to hear how fond you are of your Care family."

Sam narrowed his eyes, a wall closing down around him. Sam pressed his lips together, and sat back, crossing his arms defensively. He would talk about anything. Anything but that.

Dr. Neville tutted. "Come now, Sam. You are more intelligent than that. You know this won't help your case." When he got no reaction, he sighed, shaking his head sadly. "It's clear you're still grieving the loss of Daniel, and you miss your parents. That's very natural Sam. Missing your family does not make you weak."

Sam looked away, his arms quivering with tension. His teeth were gritted, and he had to stop himself from throttling the man.

"All psychics go through this, Sam." Dr. Neville assured him. "It's hard to go through life with such minimal security, and they often find themselves longing for their mother's arms, or their father's strong embrace." He leaned forward, propping himself on his elbows against the desk. "Loneliness is not a weakness, Sam. It just means that-"

Sam leaped to his feet, rage pouring off of him in waves. "I don't care about my family!" He shouted. "The only one I missed was Danny, and he's dead now!" Sam's eyes welled up with tears. "I wouldn't care if my parents went and drowned themselves after losing Danny. They should! It was their fault! After I left, it was their job to watch after him!" Sam seemed to lose his momentum, and he sagged, stray tears slipping down his cheeks. "It was their job...to do what I couldn't anymore...since they sent me away."

Dr. Neville smiled gently, and stood up. He walked around his desk to Sam, and held out tissue. Sam glowered at him, shoving the hand aside.

Dr. Neville placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam, it was never your job to take care of your brother. That responsibility was never yours. You shouldn't put that blame on yourself."

"I can't help it." Sam whispered bitterly. "I should have been there to protect him. I should have run away to find him. I should have never let them take me…"

"That wouldn't have worked, Sam." Dr. Neville assured him. "There was nothing you could have done. Daniel's death was tragic, but it was not your fault."

Sam closed his eyes, feeling the urge to admit something he hadn't wanted to. "I miss her. My mom." The tears spilled over, and Sam quickly swiped them away self-consciously. "I miss how she would kiss my head at night. I miss how she would let me cook with her at night. I miss how she used to ask me about my day."

"That's normal, Sam." Dr. Neville said gently. "You have to understand that your mother made her mistakes, but she was not an evil person. Never doubt that she loved you."

"She gave me up." Sam spat. "She looked right in my eyes and said that she didn't want me. How does that amount to love?"

"I know." Dr. Neville said somberly. "You, and all the psychic children, you deserve better."

"I just…" Sam sagged, letting out his breath. "I'm just tired of hating them all the time."

"Sam, the people we love most are usually the ones we hate the most often." Dr. Neville said quietly. When Sam looked up at his face, Dr. Neville was gazing at a picture hung on the wall. A redheaded girl with freckles and a bright smile took up the frame.

Sam took a shuddering breath, and wiped his eyes. He took a step back, shame at his outburst reddening his face.

Dr. Neville gave an amused smile. He crossed back to his desk, and piled up some papers. "That will be all for today, Sam. You're welcome to stay for a few minutes and collect yourself."

Sam shook his head, and quickly made a break for the door. He paused just outside the door, taking a few steadying breaths. After he assured himself that his eyes were dry, and pulled the door open, only to fall back a few steps.

"Sam." Mr. Pearson said coldly, disdain curling his lip. "We seem to continually meet this way, don't we?"

* * *

Sam retreated a few steps, his eyes wide.

"Oh, calm down, Sam." Mr. Pearson snarled. "I'm here to speak with Dr. Neville."

Mr. Pearson moved toward the room that Sam had just exited. Shaking slightly, Sam circled the room, keeping an even distance away from the man. Mr. Pearson smirked at the display, and he haughtily entered the office, letting the door swing shut behind him. Sam winced as the door slammed in the wind.

Sam couldn't really explain what possessed him to have this fear of his social worker. Other than the occasional hard grip on his arm, Mr. Pearson had never been physically abusive towards Sam. On the other hand, he had never been shy about expressing his dislike for the boy. Mr. Pearson had been fond of lecturing Sam on exactly why his species was a disgrace, and shouldn't even be allowed in normal society.

That was another thing. Mr. Pearson seemed unable to admit that Sam was actually human. In his opinion, Sam deserved to be hunted along with the other supernatural scum that plagued the Earth. Sam wasn't sure why a man who harbored such an obvious loathing for psychics would choose a line of work in which he interacted so often with them.

Perhaps the reason was related to the fact that he was involved in their lives so much. Not only was Pearson in charge of carting his psychic charges around, but he also had to go through the list of available Care homes, and find the most "suitable". In Mr. Pearson's eyes, it never seemed to be about which home was the best; it was about which home would crack down the hardest with punishment. To help this along, Mr. Pearson always made sure to hint to the Care parents that while physical punishment, such as beatings, nights without meals, confinement, or any other cruel forms of "discipline", wasn't technically allowed, it wouldn't be difficult to keep the infraction hidden.

Sam smiled wryly as he recalled how his Care parents used to react. They all seemed to have different reactions. The Benson's had pretended to be outraged, but Marcus Benson had no problem putting the hint to good use once Mr. Pearson left. Of course, two weeks after given the information, Mr. Benson was using it quite frequently, until Sam had to use his telekinesis in self-defense. That wasn't received well.

The Freemonts had laughed at the news, and seemed totally at ease with the idea. However, when Maria Freemont had lifted a hand to strike Sam, it was her husband Tom that stopped her. Sam managed to stay with the Freemonts for a whole month, not a Care home record by a long shot, but impressive for him. The problem occurred when Daniel was shot. Sam began acting out, rebelliously staying out, committing infringement after infringement. Eventually, it was Tom that admitted "the arrangement wasn't working for them".

The Emile's house was personally Sam's favorite. When given the news, they shrugged, seemingly uncaring one way or another. Even after Mr. Pearson left, they stuck to ignoring Sam, pretending there wasn't a child living in their house, crying himself to sleep at night. For four months, Sam mostly fended for himself, making his own breakfast, lunch, and, occasionally, dinner. He made himself take a shower every night, and got his homework done. In the big picture, the Emiles were the perfect fit for him at the time. They left him alone, which after Daniel's death, was all he wanted from other people.

However, out of all his Care homes, Mr. Pearson truly struck gold with the Denellis'. Not for Sam, but according to Mr. Pearson's book, this Care home was perfect. It had an amazing record with keeping psychics in line, and no squeamishness when it came to punishment. Sam spent two and a half months in that home. Worst two and a half months of his life. Jack Denellis, the head of the house, some days handed out beatings to his own children, so he had no qualms about giving them to Sam.

Over the course of two and a half months, Sam developed extreme anxiety, and was hardly able to speak for fear of being beaten. That didn't stop him from acting out. He was hoping that the Denellis would tire of beating him and just give him up. On the contrary, they relished the fresh challenge. The beatings came more frequently, and with harsher quality. He was locked inside a small closet until he begged to be let out, screaming and crying. He was starved until he was pleading and groveling for food. The Denellis did everything they could to break him. And, slowly, it began to work. When Sam spoke, his voice was only a quiet tremor. His hands shook with fear, and he was hardly able to focus on his schoolwork, or anything other than dealing with the pain.

When Madeleine, the Denellis oldest daughter, came home from college for a surprise visit, she was horrified to find the state her siblings were in, with bruises decorating their torsos and legs. However, she nearly broke down into tears when she met Sam, cowering in his room, a fresh beating apparent by the state of his abused face.

Madeleine called the police, which lead to an investigation of the family. The Denellis' children moved in with Madeleine outside the town, with no contact with their father, and only supervised visits with their mother. Sam, however, was supposed to stay with the man while they arranged a new Care home for him. Madeleine, though she felt for him, didn't offer to take him in. The sight of his tag seemed to close down something in her, shutting off the sympathy she had felt for him.

Sam remembered sprinting down the stairs to Madeleine's car, where she was loading her siblings into the vehicle. He gripped her arm, pleading with her to take him with her, not to leave him here. He remembered how she tugged her arm out of his grip, how she turned her back on him.

"Don't do this to me, kid." She had whispered, unable to voice his name, fearful that it would make her decision seem all the more inhumane. "It's not fair."

Sam recalled stepping back, dumbfounded, as his supposed "guardian angel" went off into the night, simultaneously stealing his hope, and his faith in humanity. If she, the kindest human being he had met, save for Daniel, didn't want him, who would?

That night brought the worst beating of his life. In the end, Sam ended up with a broken rib, a fractured arm, slight internal bleeding, and a long hospital visit. When most of his injuries were healed, Mr. Pearson signed him out of his fifth Care home, and brought him to his sixth, where he only stayed for a few months, again.

Of course, there were other Care homes along with the most memorable. Some were actually decent, and others were just stops along the way. Some brought disappointment, some heartbreak, some gave him hope only to tear it away.

The worst part of it was, the Denellis weren't the worst Care home that he had been in. The worst, by far, was the Winchesters. Sure, they seemed to care, but Sam was still waiting for them to get tired of him. He was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, because it would. It always did. And when it did, Sam wasn't sure he could handle it. He had let himself fall for the act. The act of kindness. Now, he had no choice but to wait until the inevitable became reality, and then try to pick up the pieces that would be his shattered life.

Sam felt a pang of pain in his heart, making it sting worse than he had ever felt. Slowly, he slid down the wall, until he was hunched over, his arms wrapped around his legs, which were pressed up into his chest. Sam sobbed once, tears sinking into his jeans. He didn't want the Winchesters to be fake. He wanted it to be real. He wanted it to be real so bad it hurt. Sam looked up, hitting the wall with his head once, tears blurring his vision.

He wanted it to be real.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice came from the door. Quickly, Sam wiped the tears from his face, and pushed himself up, blinking rapidly to dispel the wetness in his eyes. Sam saw Dean take a step inside, concern etched on his every feature. Sam tried to brush by him quickly, hoping to keep up the stoic facade. Dean's arms caught him, and pulled him back. Sam felt Dean's chin on the top of his head.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean murmured. Sam felt the tears returning.

"I want it to be real." He whispered, more for himself than Dean's benefit. "I want it to be real so badly." His heart ached, and he wanted to pull away from Dean, free himself from this self-inflicted misery.

"Sammy, I know your other Care homes must have sucked." Dean said. He kept his grip firm, keeping Sam close. "I have no idea how bad they were, but I know they were bad." He shifted, pushing Sam slightly out so that he was gazing right into Sam's eyes. "But that will never happen to you here. I swear, I will take care of you." He pulled Sam back into the hug.

Sam closed his eyes. It was probably fake. It would probably hurt excruciatingly when the other shoe dropped. But until then, he had no choice other than to trust the Winchesters.

Come what may.

* * *

Dr. Neville stood at his desk, gazing at another photo of the girl with red hair, this time a younger version of her, laughing as she held up fistfuls of sand on the vast expanse of beach.

"What is _this?_" Mr. Pearson hissed, holding up his phone. He looked at it, and quickly read of the message. "'I have the boy. Come quickly. We can start ahead of schedule'." He glared at Dr. Neville. "You couldn't have seriously been considering taking him _here?_"

"Why not?" Dr. Neville snapped. "The boy's right where we want him here. There would be no evidence to condemn us. My prints would already be all over the place."

"You forget the family still waiting outside, who would be concerned if their charge came in, but _never came out!_" Mr. Pearson threw the phone to the couch, still steaming with anger. "They actually care for the freak. They wouldn't just accept money in exchange for their silence."

Dr. Neville sagged. "I know." He whispered, running a hand over his face. "We're running out of time. This needs to move faster."

Mr. Pearson walked up, and got right in Dr. Neville's face, forcing him to focus. "Sam must be the last that we collect. I know some people that can help us get the others with more efficiency, but _you _are going to need to keep your head. Remember, I recommended you to the Winchesters so that you could keep an eye on the most important part of our plan, as well as keep the Winchesters in the area. But if you lose it, the whole plan could fall apart." He strode back toward the door. At the last second, he turned back. "And continue with the experiments. It won't do if we do obtain Sam, only to have no idea what we're doing."

Dr. Neville nodded mutely, his eyes fixated back on the girl in the photos. Mr. Pearson sighed, and crossed the room. Gently, he laid a hand on Dr. Neville's arm.

"Remember why we're doing this, Gene." Mr. Pearson said. "For her. For Emilia. We'll get revenge on those who wronged her."

"And then we'll free the psychics." Dr. Neville finished, his eyes shining.

"Of course." Mr. Pearson agreed, his eyes gleaming with deception. "Then we'll free the psychics. All of them."

* * *

**Oh my gosh! I am so super sorry, you guys! I kind of dropped the ball with this one. I don't even know how long it's been since I updated. *shudder***

**If you want an explanation as to why I wasn't updating, I was undergoing a slight "existential crisis". Look it up on Youtube. Danisnotonfire explains it pretty thoroughly in one of his videos. **

**In the spirit of Thanksgiving, which is when I'm officially updating this, I want to thank every one of my Followers, Favoriters, and Reviewers. You guys make this whole experience so amazing. I'm so grateful that this website exists, and that wonderful people like you take up your time to help me develop my skills as a writer. **

**Thanks for helping me. : ) **

**Cheers!**


	10. Brother

**Hey everybody! We've officially reached 10! YES!**

**Chapter 10 - Brother**

* * *

_The boy glanced around the park nervously, shifting his feet. He had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and he shivered against the night breeze._

_A figure emerged from the darkness. The first boy caught sight of the new arrival, and his shoulders relaxed. He started walking toward the second boy, who bore similar facial features. The first broke into a run, colliding haphazardly with the second boy. _

"_Ansem." The first boy whispered. He wrapped his arms tightly around the other boy, and Ansem did the same. "I didn't know if you'd remember."_

"_Of course I would remember." Ansem scoffed, pulling away slightly. "They can take our freedom, Andrew, but they can't keep us from each other. Twins gotta stick together." _

_Andrew smiled, and he swung an arm over his brother's shoulders. They walked over to the bench, and sat. Andrew closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the feel of his brother sitting next to him, after so long apart. _

"_What have you been up to?" Andrew asked briskly, to cut the silence. _

_Ansem laughed. "I convinced my teacher to give me an A on a test. It was pretty hilarious." He shook his head, a wry smile making it's way onto his face. "She was so confused." His smile faded. "But then she caught on. And called the cops. And Mr. Bernsten." _

"_Is he your…?" Andrew trailed off, knowing that the words angered his brother. _

"_Not anymore." Ansem laughed darkly. "They relocated me. Again." He looked up at his brother. "It took me two hours to walk here." Regret swum in his eyes. "I might not make it next time, brother." _

_Andrew felt a flash of panic. Ansem wasn't always a good person. He knew that. But he was all Andrew had. No one else cared about him like Ansem did. If he were to die, Ansem was the only one he had left who would cry. They couldn't take him away any more than they already had. _

_Andrew swallowed, pushing down his fear, so as not to upset Ansem. "Well, then, we'll just have to make the meeting place someplace closer to your new location." _

_Ansem smiled faintly, without hope, averting his gaze to the ground. Absently, he reached out and slid his fingers through Andrew's. Andrew looked to his brother in confusion. Hand holding had been something they had done as children, to comfort each other. Make their predicament seem less lonely. Back when they were even allowed to see each other, if only for a few minutes a week. As they had grown, the hand holding had been diminished to pats on the back, and brotherly embraces. Ansem wouldn't make himself feel this vulnerable. Not unless he _truly_ felt he had not other choice. _

"_What's wrong, Ansem? What's _really_ wrong?" Andrew clarified, understanding his brother's emotions better than anyone else. _

_Ansem looked up at his brother. His eyes were shining, tears welling up, unshed. "Where they relocated me...it's only temporary." He admitted, his voice cracking. _

_Andrew felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. He shook his head, mentally begging his brother to deny what he suspected. "Wh-where are they moving you?" He whispered, his voice weak. _

_Ansem looked desolately at his brother, his eyes void of hope. "You know where, Andrew." He murmured. _

"_No." Andrew denied. He stood up, tears falling onto his cheeks. "NO! They can't do that! They can't!" Ansem stood, pulling his brother into a firm embrace, as Andrews sobs echoed around the playground. _

"_It's okay, little brother," Ansem said, who had always felt that even though they were the same age, he was older. He was the one who's job it was to protect his brother. He was the one to look after him. "I'll be okay. They say the work camps aren't as bad as people make them out to be." He swallowed his grief. "You'll be okay, too." _

"_They can't…" Andrew whispered. "Please...you can't leave me…" _

_The words nearly broke Ansem's heart, but he shoved the feelings down. He hardened his resolve. "This is the last time you'll see me, Andrew." He guaranteed solemnly. His brothers cried became louder, though he tried to hide it. "But you'll be okay." He clutched his brother closer, desperately trying to memorize every feature. Quietly, to himself, he murmured, "You have to be okay." _

_A snap to their left stopped the brothers in their tracks. Ansem looked suspiciously toward the sound, but dismissed it reluctantly, blaming wildlife. He took the distraction as an opportunity to pull back from his distressed twin. Ansem looked into his brothers eyes, took a breath, opened his mouth to speak, and-_

_Ansem cried out as something small pierced his neck. He took a faltering step back, his hand reaching up to yank the offending object out. It tugged on his skin as he snatched the needle like projectile from his neck. However, judging from his swimming vision, and offset balance, it was too little, too late. _

_Ansem collapsed to the ground. Andrew shouted his name, barely catching him before Ansem would have cracked his head on the ground. He knelt by his brothers side, fear plain in his wide eyes. _

"_R-run." Ansem croaked, whatever sedative had been pumped into him quickly doing it's job. Andrew shook his head sadly, regret and acceptance shining in his eyes clearly. "I'm not leaving you." He said simply, stating a fact. _

_Andrew jerked back as a dart caught him, and he roughly pulled it out, managing to hold himself up on his hands and knees. Andrew looked up at his brother, their eyes saying more than could be stated in a thousand words. Andrew groaned, and let himself fall to the ground, still locking eyes with Ansem. _

_Ansem reached out weakly, extending his hand toward his brother. Andrew reached out as well, and just before Ansem's vision went black, he felt their fingertips touch, a touch that brought instant relief, and the knowledge that he was not alone providing a whisper of comfort. _

_Shouts broke out just above him, three figures in dark clothes rushed out from the shadows. Ansem struggled to reach his brother, protect him, straining uselessly against the drugs coursing through his body, even as the impending darkness began to swallow him. _

_With his last ounce of strength, Ansem gasped and shoved with all his might towards his younger brother. His little brother. His baby brother, who he swore to himself to protect. Ansem grabbed Andrew's hand, and he held onto it with his fading strength. _

I'll protect you, baby brother,_ Ansem swore determinedly, even as the rough hands of their captors disconnected the contact between the two. Ansem finally gave into the exhaustion, going completely limp, simultaneously easing the tension in his own body and making it more difficult for the strangers to lift him. _

I swear, Andrew, _Ansem promised as the light faded, and his thoughts became foggy. _You will not be alone.

* * *

Sam's eyes snapped open, and his breath came in gasps. His forehead was plastered with sweat, and he swallowed, blinking rapidly to refocus his eyes. He could feel gravel pressing into his knees, and the sound of cars rushing past.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean's voice came from behind him. Sam was aware of his sure hand rubbing small circles on Sam's back, in a comforting rhythm. "It's over, it's finished." Dean soothed.

Sam closed his eyes to steady himself. He took a few deep breaths, the post-vision pain still bad, but fading. When he opened his eyes, he hissed at how bright the light was. Glaringly bright. Sam groaned slightly, and curled an arm around his stomach. Something was wrong with his stomach. He felt...nauseous. And lightheaded.

Sam recalled the vision, turning it over in his mind as he tried to distract himself from his discomfort. He started trembling as he remembered the horrible clarity of it. Normally his visions were like old TV or radio stations with bad frequencies, that cut in and out. This one, however, was like watching a movie in high definition.

And the feelings. Sam felt his stomach twist even more when he thought of the feelings that had bombarded him. He had felt what the boy, Ansem, had felt. In detail. In a horrible, claustrophobic clearness.

Sam remembered Ansem's fear. His protectiveness. His terror when Andrew didn't run. The people grabbing them. Separating them. Ansem's promise to Andrew, though they were both too far gone to speak by then.

Sam's stomach heaved without warning. He pitched forward, retching painfully. Dean jumped, and grabbed Sam's shoulders to brace him.

"Dad!" Dean shouted sternly, without panicking. "Get out here."

John, who had been talking to a concerned Mary, immediately zeroed in on the situation. Holding a hand up to Mary, he motioned for her to stay put. Quickly, John exited the car and made his way to the boys. Sam, still retching and coughing, was shaking and sweating as well.

John knelt by Sam, and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You're okay, Sam, just breathe."

Sam coughed again, fighting for breath desperately. His eyes widened, and his breath became even more harried as he panicked.

John grabbed both of Sam's shoulders, and braced him. He leaned forward, and spoke quietly, but firmly, in Sam's ear.

"Breathe, Sam." He ordered. "Just calm down, son."

Actually keen on obeying for once, Sam struggled to even out his breathing, and slowly, the consistency of his gasps regained a better quality. Sam felt John relax behind him.

"There you go." John encouraged. "Don't think about anything else. Just breathe."

Finally, Sam sat back against John and Dean, nausea fading, and breathing evened out. John let out a relieved breath.

"You worried us, there, Sam." He said lightly, but Sam could hear the underlying edge of concern.

"Never…" Sam croaked, his voice rough. Sam cleared his throat, swallowed, and attempted again. "They've never been like that before." He looked up at the two men weakly.

"Like what, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"So...clear." Sam answered. "It was a thousand times more clear. And...I could feel things. What they were feeling."

"Who?" John asked in concern.

Sam felt a jolt when he remembered the two boys. "Psychics. Ansem and Andrew. They're twins." He looked up desperately at John and Dean. "They were kidnapped."

John narrowed his eyes, and looked back at Mary, her face laced with apprehension. John sighed. "Let's get back to the house, boys. I have something to talk to all of you about."

* * *

The four Winchesters crowded around their table. After a brief, expectant silence, John stood.

"You remember that could-be hunt I mentioned a few days ago?" He asked. Dean nodded, eyebrows furrowed.

"I was investigating the disappearance of Max Miller, age 14." He looked around at his small family. "He's a psychic."

Sam stared down at the table, expecting stares from the family, but their eyes remained on John. Sam felt the knot in his chest loosen, and gratitude take it's place.

"It's not uncommon for psychics to run away from their Care homes, but usually they are either caught or return on their own after a day or two." He paused. "It's been almost three days. The possibility of a runaway is dwindling. Fast." John sat back down, clasping his hands in front of him. "However, I might still dismiss it as that, if it weren't for the other disappearances." He looked regretfully at Sam. "In the states and towns around Lawrence, a total of four psychics have gone missing, including the two boys Sam saw earlier.

"All are around 14 years old, all are psychics." John sighed. "I feel like there's a connection, but…" He trailed off. "The only sure kidnapping was of a girl named Ava Wilson, taken outside her school. It's suspected that Max Miller was kidnapped, but not positive."

Looking at the faces of his family, John tried to placate them. "I'm not trying to scare you, I just want everyone on the lookout." His gaze settled on Sam. "Sam is the exact age of the kids that have been taken. This guy has been successful with taking four children, if that is the case. Let's not make it so easy with Sam."

Sam's face burned, but he felt oddly happy all the same. John cared. He really cared. Sam was disturbed to hear about the children, and John's suspicions about the subject. The topic wasn't a surprise to him, having witnessed all the kidnappings. However, the whole family's concern for him warmed him to the core.

"They were all kidnapped." He commented quietly.

John nodded. "The evidence only points to two kidnappings, however." At Sam's hurt look, he held up his hands defensively. "I don't doubt you, but the authorities would."

"Don't worry, Dad." Dean growled. Sam looked back at his brother, who had been silent throughout most of the conversation. "Whoever wants Sam has to go through me."

He and Sam made eye contact. Sam shivered at the look in his eye. It reminded him of the fierce determination of Ansem, watching his brother collapse next to him.

"They're not going to get you, Sammy." Dean promised. "I got your back."

Sam smiled. Dean might have his back, but he knew that if worst came to worst, he would have Dean's back.

* * *

Ava screamed as the electricity arched through her body again. It ceased, and she sagged against the metal table, panting loudly. Her mouth was dry, but if she hadn't had no moisture in her body, she would have been crying.

Or maybe not. This had been going on for so long, Ava was starting to understand Max's fear when she had just arrived. Sadly, she was gradually losing the ability to cry. Crying didn't help anything.

The man in the coat walked over to her. Ava had learned from phone call that he made that his name was "Dr. Neville". Dr. Neville gently stroked her face, sympathy playing across his features. Ava weakly jerked her head away.

"D-don't touch m-me, you f-f-freak." She rasped, her voice stuttering involuntarily.

Dr. Neville's fingers stilled. His brow furrowed in concern. "Do you need water, Ava?" He asked, before walking over to the table and picking up a cup. He brought it over to Ava. He gently grasped the back of her head, propping it up. With his other hand, he brought the cup to her lips. Ava drank greedily, anger simmering in her stomach. When there was almost none left, Ava sucked the water into her mouth, but didn't drink it, holding the mouthful inside.

"Better?" Dr. Neville asked, acting as though he had solved all of her problems. He wore an expression of superiority, looking at her like she was some idiotic child.

Rage boiled in Ava's veins, and in response, she spit the water out at Dr. Neville. He stumbled back, shock crossing his face. Ava watched as his face grew red with anger, and his features twisted, making him look less human.

Dr. Nevill stormed over, and slammed her shoulders down, bringing his face close to hers. Ava cried out as her head banged against the unforgiving metal.

"You should show me some respect!" Dr. Neville shouted. "I am trying to help you! All of you! You just can't see it! Stupid, stupid, girl!" He shook her again, and Ava couldn't help but whimper.

That small sound seemed to break Dr. Neville from his rage. He took a step back, looking regretful.

"Ava.." He faltered, reaching out a hand to comfort her. She drew away, straining against the metal restraints confining her.

Dr. Neville stopped. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "I _am_ trying to help."

The door to the chamber opened with a bang, and three people walked in. Between them, two boys hung, unconscious. Ava's eyes widened with horror. Dr. Neville forgot her for a moment. He walked over to the two, inspecting them closely.

"Are these the Gallager boys? Andrew and Ansem?" He asked sharply, while checking their pupils.

One of the people nodded in assent. Dr. Neville walked to the desk, and lifted a list off of the desk. He consulted it, and looked back at the boys.

"Gag them." He ordered. Ava buried her gasp, not wanting to draw attention to herself.

The group complied, roughly gagging the pair.

"Put them in A3 and A4." Dr. Neville said, meaning the cage numbers. "I'll deal with them when I'm done."

Dr. Neville looked back to Ava. Chills ran down her spine.

"I have work to do."

* * *

***shudder* I'm sorry, I'm writing in Dr. Neville, and he creeps even ME out. **

**Hope you enjoyed. Review and let me know what you think! : )**

**Remember, I adore constructive criticism. Help me improve my writing skills. **

**Cheers!**


	11. Breaking Point

**Here's Chapter 11! Hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter 11 - Breaking Point**

* * *

Sam hung his head low as he shouldered his way through the crowd, letting his hair hang before his eyes. Although he tried to keep the attention away from himself, he still heard the murmurs from the kids around him.

"He _totally _wigged out yesterday." A girl whispered to her friend. Sam frowned. Had it really just been yesterday? It felt like eons ago; so much had happened.

"Some kids are saying he did it as a ploy to escape." A boy muttered to another, while shooting a glare in Sam's direction. Sam wanted to laugh, even if that had been the case, it was almost an insult to his intelligence to assume otherwise than if he had come up with an escape plan, it would have succeeded. Sam's slight smile faded. Of course, his plans hadn't worked in the past.

"I bet he was hoping some poor sap would get close enough for him to attack." An older boy told a younger child, whose eyes widened when Sam looked at him, and shrunk away.

Sam sighed, and pressed on. The rumors were inevitable. There was no way what happened would go unnoticed. He had known that, had prepared himself for that fact. So why did it still bring such disappointment?

"Oh my gosh! Sam!" Someone came rushing through the crowd, and collided with him, desperately wrapping their arms around him. Sam reeled back in shock for a moment, and then tenderly wrapped his own arms around the person.

Maia pulled back, sniffing slightly. She held a tough expression, scowling slightly at the floor. Sam smiled halfway, feeling a little proud of himself, when Maia's hand shot out and whacked him in the shoulder. Sam stumbled back, more from shock than impact, and looked at her in disbelief.

"What the heck, Maia?" He griped, rubbing his sore shoulder. "What was _that_ for?"

Maia whipped her head up, furious, and Sam wilted under her onslaught. "What was _that_ for?" She hissed, fire in her eyes. "_That_ is for scaring me half to death, Sam! You collapsed on the ground, shaking and moaning, and I had no idea what to do!" Her voice rose with every word, anger propelling her on. "I had to go find Dean, I had to tell a teacher, I had to try to stop them from taking you away!" Her voice cracked on the last word, and Sam reached out sympathetically, but Maia jerked away, crossing her arms.

"You didn't call, you didn't text. You didn't even _think_ of letting me know if you _survived, _did you?" She glared in the other direction, to overcome with emotion to say any more.

Sam stood shell-shocked. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Maia looked over, expecting an explanation, and glowered at him when nothing came.

"I should have known it." Maia mumbled as she began to storm past. "All guys turn out to be jerks."

Sam reached out and caught her arm, stopping her hurried exit. "Wait, Maia-"

She yanked her arm away from him. "Don't touch me!" She shouted. "I don't need your pity. I took pity on _you!_ You remember that?" Maia stopped, gazing at Sam hurtfully. "I shouldn't have bothered." She whispered to herself, but Sam caught the words. He blinked, sadness crossing his face. Maia's eyes filled with tears, and she stormed off, wiping them angrily.

Sam walked dazedly to his locker, and pulled some books randomly from the fray. He followed the mob of kids, finally ending up in his own classroom, each step accenting a thought.

_I screwed up. I screwed up so badly. Maia's right; god, I'm an awful person. _

Sam was awash in a sea of self-loathing when he arrived at his destination. Absently, he took his seat, and stared out the window in the door, feeling slightly relieved that his first hour was one of the two that he and Maia had separately, and hating that he felt relieved, and feeling relieved that he still cared about Maia enough to hate that he was relieved.

Sam was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the teacher striving to get his attention. The class tittered, giggles ricocheting around the room.

"Mr. _Winchester._" The teacher tried one more time, and Sam finally jerked to attention, inciting more laughter. The teacher, Mrs. Albotross, a woman of little humor, pursed her lips, and gestured innocently back at the board.

"Well, Mr. Winchester, as you seem so gifted in this part of your education that you feel it appropriate to allow a lax in attention, would you be so kind as to explain General Washington's viewpoint on the direction of the revolution?" Her language often grew more complex when she was trying to humiliate a student. More giggles ran around the room at Sam's discomfort.

Sam stared futilely at the board for a moment. He tried to grasp what it meant, but none of the information seemed relevant to her question. He looked up, silently begging her for a break, just this once. Mrs. Albotross merely raised her eyebrows. Inwardly, Sam sagged. This teacher had had him pegged from the moment he entered her classroom. It was the tag. One look at it, and she had been glaring daggers at him from across the room.

Sam sighed. "He was...happy about it?" Was his lame attempt. The class burst out laughing, but Mrs. Albotross exhaled sharply, and strode back to her desk.

"If you had been paying attention, Mr. Winchester, you would know that we aren't even covering the Revolutionary War at this point, we are looking at the civil rights movement." She scolded. Sam felt his face burn with shame, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care more than slight embarrassment at the public berating.

Mrs. Albotross glared down at him. "Do you even have any of your things, Mr. Winchester?" She asked in a condescending tone, clearing knowing the answer herself, just wanting him to say it.

"No." Sam admitted with quiet dread.

"No?" Mrs. Albotross gasped in mock surprise. "Well, who would've guessed? What, Mr. Winchester, possesses you to assume that you need not be prepared for my class?" She asked.

Something inside Sam snapped, the stress of the past few days breaching his breaking point. He stood up, indignation fueling his actions. "What possesses you to assume I'm going to have a good answer for that question?" He shot back. "What possesses you to assume that I actually care about anything you're teaching in this class?"

Mrs. Albotross gasped, looking horrified, but Sam could see satisfaction in her eyes. He was only proving her silently made point that psychics were unpredictable and dangerous.

Sam glared angrily at her. "Stop treating me like I'm an idiot just because I'm a psychic." A few kids inhaled sharply at his words. "Yeah, I said it." Sam shot at them. "It doesn't go away when you ignore it, you know. Just because you pretend you don't know what happens to us doesn't mean it stops."

"Mr. Winchester, I assure you that this is not the place for that kind of talk-" Mrs. Albotross began. She was going through the motions weakly. She wanted him to interrupt her, to make it look like he was the enemy. Sam recognized all of this, but his fury was too hot to be ignored.

"Then where?" Sam cried. "A courtroom? They would never even consider a case like that. Anything involving psychics is written off as unimportant, especially if the psychic is blaming someone else for a problem!" His chest heaved, and he clenched his fists angrily.

"You all assume that I'm some kind of monster. Well guess what? I didn't chose this. None of us did. So stop acting like we committed some crime just for existing."

He turned back to the teacher. "And quit with the rant about the civil war. It's not like it changed anything. It was _pointless_." He spat. Mrs. Albotross gasped, real indignation shooting through her. Sam felt a sense of grim satisfaction at actually getting a rise out of her.

"It gave freedom to thousands of innocent people!" She declared. "You call that pointless?"

"Yeah." Sam said coldly. "Look around. There are still slaves nowadays. Still families torn apart. Still kids that cry at night because they miss their parents, or a younger brother that they will _never _see again." He paused, regaining his composure. "They're just hidden under the pretense of danger."

"There is a certain truth to that statement." Mrs. Albotross protested, no trickery in her gaze at his point. She truly believed in what she was saying, and to some degree, that hurt Sam the most. "You can't deny that psychics have been the cause of multiple casualties."

"So have regular people!" Sam shouted. "But you don't see regular kids ripped from their families just for being a certain race! Regular kids aren't punished for their parents mistakes!" He struggled for words for a moment, his anger choking off common sense.

"You treat us like animals! Like we don't know any better than to kill and destroy! But that's a lie!" Sam slammed a fist down on his desk, everyone in the room flinched. "I am human! We all are. We don't deserve this! Any of it!" He insisted.

"That's part of the reason we teach our younger generations about psychics." Mrs. Albotross offered in a soothing voice, the snake returning to her gaze. "We try to teach about our past mistakes so as not to repeat them." She said in a lower tone.

He gave a short, cold laugh. "Great job with that. Obviously, something's gone wrong. Somehow, psychic rights have been written off as unnecessary. Right? Unless you want to start a civil rights movement right now...?" He looked around the class. The laughing was long gone; the students stared down at their desks. "I didn't think so."

Mrs. Albotross smiled coyly. "Why in the world would any of us want to?" She asked. "You have only proved what we all already knew. Psychics are unstable, and dangerous. I'd say they're about as dangerous as having a loaded gun in the school."

Sam barked a laugh. "Guns don't kill people." He quoted, recalling an old saying from a pro-gun commercial he saw a while back. "People kill people." He looked around the room, staring at each kid in turn. "_You're_ the ones pushing psychics to more and more drastic measures. You're making them desperate. The only way they can get any sort of freedom is to fight back. So they do."

Mrs. Albotross looked scandalized. She opened her mouth to say something, but Sam cut her off.

"Please, don't." He implored her. "I get it. Detention, principal's office, staying after, I get it. No special treatment here, right?" Sam looked back up at the board. "Not back then. Not now." He looked his teacher right in the eye. "Not for me."

With that, Sam grabbed his books off of his desk. He stormed out of the room, and slammed the door shut angrily behind him. He tore down the hallway, tears of injustice stinging his eyes.

When Sam reached his locker, he violently twisted the combination lock, and tried the lever. It didn't work, and, frustrated, he tried it a second time. In a manic burst of fury, he slammed his fist against his locker, and leaned his head against the cool metal. Sam felt his shoulders begin to shake as tears slid down his face.

Sam slid down the locker, and held his head in his hands. _I'm so done. _He thought desperately. _I don't want this anymore. _

"Sam?" Sam glanced up and saw a blurry Maia running down the hall towards him. Sam straightened, wiping the tears from his face. He looked down the other hall, away from Maia, shame written on every feature.

"Sam." Maia paused by him, and took a seat, sitting against the lockers with her knees up to her chest. "You know, you didn't deserve what I said to you-" She started.

"No, I did." Sam quietly disagreed.

"No, you didn't." Maia insisted, slightly distraught. "Sam, I was worried, and angry at the system, the world, and…" She looked away, reddening. "You were the only one I could take it out on."

"I deserved it." Sam sighed. "I was a horrible friend, and a sucky person." He looked over at Maia, and sighed. "I should have thought of you."

"I wish you would have." Maia whispered, tucking her chin into her knees. A strange silence followed.

"It's just…" Sam began, struggling for the right words. Sam averted his eyes, talking to the opposite wall. "I've never...had a friend like you before. Even before I was...before the psychic stuff, I never really had friends that would care _that_ much." He chuckled cynically. "They would just want the juicy gossip."

Maia reached over tenderly, and gently grasped Sam's hand. With a shocked look at her, Sam wrapped his own fingers around hers.

"I'm sorry, Maia." Sam whispered, looking straight into her eyes. "I should have...I just…"

"What happened?" She asked kindly.

Sam sighed, groaning as he relived the experience, and told her about the encounter with Mrs. Albotross.

"I was so stupid." He griped. "Why didn't I just keep my mouth shut? I'm such a stupid, moronic..."

"You aren't stupid." Maia murmured. "You're brave." She looked up into his eyes uncertainly.

Maia leaned close. Sam looked intently into her eyes, strange emotions dancing in his stomach. She looked so beautiful, her soft dark blond hair falling in a curtain around her. For the first time, Sam took in her beautiful dark blue eyes, and the light brown streaks running throughout her hair. Running purely on instinct, Sam reached up lightly, grazing her cheek with his fingers.

"Sam?" Another voice echoed down the hallway. The two lurched apart, growing red. Dean vaulted around the corner, pausing when he spotted the two sitting so close. Dean grinned slyly, sauntering closer. When he spotted Sam's red eyes and tear streaked face, the smile vanished, and he knelt next to his brother.

"You okay?" He murmured, looking intently at his brother's face. Sam nodded, trying to look stoic, but Dean could see the pain in his eyes. He wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders.

"You want to go home?" Dean asked quietly. Maia sat to the side, giving the two their space, but including herself in the discussion.

Sam shrugged shakily. "Only seven more periods left, right?" He sagged when he thought of how the gossip of his outburst would spread around the school. As if he needed more attention.

"I'd take him home." Maia suggested. "If it was as bad as he said it was, it'll be all over the school in ten minutes, class or not."

Sam groaned, dropping his head into his hands.

Dean stood up, wrinkling his brow as he thought. Suddenly, looking down at Sam, an idea hit him.

"Hey, you can act, right?" Dean asked Sam urgently. Sam looked up.

"What?" He asked in confusion.

"Just act like you've got a headache." Dean said. Looking down, he cocked his head. "Actually, act like you've got a hangover."

"Hangover?!" Sam protested. Maia coughed to hide a laugh.

"Yeah, you know, unstable, in pain, squinting." Dean frowned in confusion. "You mean to tell me you've never had a hangover before?"

Sam stared in disbelief. "Dude, I'm _fourteen_." He paused. "And you, just FYI, are underage as well."

Dean shrugged. "Age is just a number." He dismissed, waving a hand. He sighed. "Fine, just pretend to have had one of your episodes, okay?"

Sam winced. "Episodes?" He judged.

Dean threw up his hands. "Episodes, vision, freaky ESP otherworldly motion picture movie of death, take your pick." He said exasperatedly.

Sam blanched. "Fine, episode it is."

Dean nodded. He looked to Maia. "You want in?"

She smiled. "Sure. I'll help with your escape attempt. Just remember to come back for your fellow prisoners here."

Dean fixed a confused gaze on her. Sam waved a hand. "It's an inside prison joke."

"Whatever." Dean relented. He held a hand down to his younger brother. "Let's get you outta here, Sammy."

* * *

"Please," The woman begged. "It's my word against that vile little creature's." She spat. Her voice turned desperate again. "Please, tell me it's something you can work with."

The man sitting behind the desk stroked his chin. "Perhaps." He surmised. "I don't think that it will truly get him relocated, however."

The woman turned away angrily. "I can't stand the sight of him." She griped. "He's only been there two days, and I can't…" Her eyes filled with tears. "Psychics are the reason my son died."

"Marcy." The man leaned forward, his expression softening. "David's car accident was a tragic accident."

"Caused by a psychic on the run from the police!" She shouted. "And now another one of _them_ is here."

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, the woman looked back at the man. "Please, Mr. Pearson. You said you needed someone to file a complaint against the boy. You said just one more could get him relocated." Her hands shook. "I don't want to see him anymore."

Mr. Pearson stood. "I'll see what I can do, Mrs. Albotross." He promised. "Know that your complaint will not go unrecognised."

"Thank you." She nodded her head, and spun on her heel, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

Mr. Pearson sat back down, rubbing his forehead. Dr. Neville stormed in as the door swung shut from Mrs. Albotross's exit.

"What are you planning, Pearson?" Dr. Neville stood over his desk, breathing heavily, his hair frazzled. "I know that this plan is important, but Sam's safety…"

"Is in consideration." Mr. Pearson assured him. He stood, leaning forward lightly. "Allowing Sam to stay with the Winchester's is not an option. They care for him too much. We need to separate them."

"So you're going to relocate him? Again?" Dr. Neville crossed the room to the window, clenching his hands together, entwining his fingers, in a desperate attempt to still his shaking fingers. "You know where he'll end up." He looked over at Mr. Pearson. "A Camp."

"Only for a week or so." Mr. Pearson dismissed. "It will prove to be much less difficult to make a nameless, random, orphan disappear from the system than to kidnap a child from his family."

Dr. Neville turned from Mr. Pearson. He fixed his gaze on the horizon, watching the early morning clouds drift across the sky. "Do you think Emilia would approve of what we are doing?" He began softly. He looked back to Mr. Pearson, tears glinting in his eyes. "We are causing those poor children pain. They are suffering."

"We are doing this to help Emilia, wherever she is." Mr. Pearson stood straighter. "Just think of that, Gene. Emilia will be home with you soon. _If_ you follow the plan."

Dr. Neville nodded, his brow furrowed. "I'll go along with this." He said. "For now. But only for Emilia."

"Of course." Mr. Pearson agreed. His fist clenched by his side, the only expression of anger shown on the outside. "Only for Emilia."

* * *

**Review, and let me know what you think. I know it's been a while, but I'm going to have to stop apologizing for not updating as soon as I planned to. *sigh* Looks like my life's not going to calm down anytime soon. : /**

**Cheers!**


	12. Sacrifice

**Sorry it's been so long. You know my excuse….**

**Chapter 12 - Sacrifice**

* * *

Ansem glared angrily through the bars of his cage. His mouth was covered with a large gag, and his hands were bound roughly behind him. Though he had struggled for the first few hours, his energy had quickly waned, leaving him breathless and dizzy with the lack of oxygen being supplied from his mouth.

He looked anxiously over at Andrew's empty cage. He'd been gone for at least an hour and a half. Maybe more. Fear festered in Ansem's chest, nestling right beside his constant companions of anger and resentment. If these monsters did anything to Andrew…

"Comfortable in there?" The cruel man, Mr. Pearson, crouched down outside of his cage, a twisted smile deforming his face. Ansem let out an animalish growl, jerking forward as if to attack. Mr. Pearson didn't even flinch.

Mr. Pearson glanced down at the watch on his wrist. "You know, Dr. Neville should be just about done with your brother by now." He grinned maliciously. "It's almost your turn."

A long scream echoed down the hallways, reaching the containment room. Ansem's eyes widened. Andrew screamed again, in a voice twisted by agony.

_What have you done with him?!_ Ansem growled again, reaching forward with his foot to kick the front of the cage. The bars rattled angrily. Another wail rang out, and Ansem snarled angrily, feeling powerless. He got to his knees, and slammed himself against the front of the cage, hoping desperately to free himself and save his brother.

Mr. Pearson merely laughed. "Save that energy for later, Ansem. You'll need it." With another barking laugh, he stood up, crossing the room.

* * *

"Why can't you stay, too?" Sam asked desperately, clinging to Dean's worn leather jacket.

"Cause someone has to do damage control." Dean explained. "We can't just up and disappear."

"Please, Dean." Sam pleaded. He swallowed, trying to clamp down his raw emotions, threatening to boil over. "I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be alone, Sammy." Dean said gently. "Mom'll be here."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean…" He trailed off, knowing that nothing he would say could make Dean stay. An arbitrary sense of abandonment washed over him. He ducked his head quickly, unwilling to let Dean see.

Dean wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders. "I'll be back, Sam." He murmured. "I swear to you, I'll come back."

Sam nodded, nonsensical fear harboring in his chest.

"Dean!" Mary called from the living room. "You're going to miss the bus!"

Sam looked up at Dean in shock. "You're not taking the Impala?" In the short time that he had been there, he had already seen how much Dean loved and was proud of that car.

Dean laughed shortly. "Technically, she's not mine." He reasoned. "She's Dad's. He just lets me drive her every once in a while. Today, he had to take her out for some business stuff."

"The Impala's a girl?" Sam questioned, smiling.

"Yep." Dean confirmed. "And don't you forget it." He ruffled Sam's hair, and pulled away, looking back at Sam as he stood in the doorway.

"See you after school, Sammy." Dean said solemnly, as if to make his previous promise more obvious, more reliable. As a last thought, he shouted back to his mother. "Pick me up after school!" He winked once more at Sam, before closing the door.

Sam still felt as if the thud of the door shutting were not simply that; rather, it sounded final, and ominous.

Mary walked into the room, drying her hands on a towel. She lightly draped an arm over his shoulder. "Why don't you help me dry?"

Sam smiled. "Already trying to get me to do work?" He said quietly, still watching the door.

"Well, you did get kicked out of school." Mary reasoned. "I figure this is part of the punishment."

Sam's smile vanished. He hadn't technically been expelled, but the headmaster had been pretty clear about the fact that Sam would probably be better suited at a different school.

Mary caught herself. "Sam, I don't mean it's your fault." She said. "Maybe you weren't ready for school."

Sam shrugged sullenly. Mary sighed. "Come on." She said, leading him into the kitchen.

* * *

Sam stared down at the plate in his hands. He wiped it dully, his mind somewhere else. He kept picturing Mrs. Albotross's face when he had stood up to her. Disgust, anger, resentment. How could someone that didn't know him feel so strongly negative about him?

"Sam." Mary murmured, looking over at him. "You've been drying that same plate for fifteen minutes. Something on your mind?"

Sam jolted to attention. He set the plate on the counter, grabbing a cup out of the bin with wet dishes. "No." He said quietly.

"Sam." Mary stopped, draping the washcloth over the faucet. "What's going on with you?"

Sam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "It's my teacher." He admitted. "She hated me."

Mary nodded, allowing the fact. "She does."

"Why?" Sam asked, almost to himself.

Mary shrugged, picking the washcloth up again. "That's a question as old as time, Sam. As long as there is someone to discriminate against, there will be those who discriminate."

"But I've never done anything to her!" Sam protested. "I don't get how she can just…" He trailed off, unable to truly express himself.

"I know." Mary whispered. "I hate it, too."

Sam looked over at Mary in confusion. "Why do you care so much?" Sam asked. "Why did you take me in? Why are you taking care of me?"

Mary smiled. "I thought that was obvious, Sam. I like you."

"That's what I don't understand." Sam frowned. "Everyone else takes one look at me, and…" He looked over at Mary. "But you, and John, and Dean. You guys act like I'm...normal." His expression hardened. "Like I'm not a freak."

"Oh, Sam." Mary sighed sadly. She set the cloth down again, and wrapped her arms around Sam. He felt her fingers, cold from the water, pressing against his neck. "You are never a freak to us." She breathed. "You are perfect."

* * *

Ansem struggled against the strong hands that pulled him out of the cage. He shouted in desperation as he looked at Andrew slumped on the floor of his cage, breath hitching. Ansem could see tear tracks running down his face, and he hated the dead look in Andrew's eyes.

Ansem shouted angrily, and lurched toward his brother. The guard roughly yanked him toward the door, away from his twin. Ansem ached to hold his brother, to comfort him, but he was helpless as the man dragged him down the hall, away from Andrew.

He was forced into a small room, surrounding a small metal table with stiff restraints. Ansem fought as he was shackled to the surface. He tested the restraints, but none of them gave.

The guard left, and Ansem struggled futilely in his absence. He knew that escape was impossible, but to admit defeat was to admit helplessness, and welcome a desperate fear into his already emotionally clogged mind.

The door opened, and a man Ansem recognized as Dr. Neville walked in. He made his way silently over to the desk by the wall. He pulled out some kind of device from a drawer, switching it on.

Ansem leaned his head back against the cool metal, trying to tamp down the lighting panic in his chest. His breath shook as Dr. Neville came closer. He set the strange device on the table next to his leg.

"Ansem, you need to relax." Dr. Neville said. "This will be much easier if you calm down."

Ansem glared daggers at the man, straining with his mind to reach him. He felt his gift humming with life, finally touching the edges of the doctors mind.

Dr. Neville lurched back, a hand reaching up to his forehead. He narrowed his eyes at Ansem, a grim smile touching his lips. "Interesting." He surmised. "Your gifts are obviously much more advanced than those of your brother."

Ansem bristled at the mention of Andrew. He turned his head to the side, inwardly trying to suppress the urge to thrash, every bone in his body aching to destroy this man.

"However, I can't have your gift botching the results of my experiment." Dr. Neville reasoned. He stepped forward, holding up a syringe. He flicked the glass container, expelling the air bubbles with a small squirt. Ansem stared in dread. As Dr. Neville lowered the needle toward him, he thrashed to the side, his shouts muffled by the gag.

Dr. Neville grabbed Ansem's forehead, forcing it flat on the table. He turned Ansem's head to the side and slid the needle into his neck. Ansem stopped struggling as he felt the drug making it's way through his system. As he looked up at Dr. Neville, everything seemed very bright, almost comically so.

Ansem's head lolled to the side, and he frowned in concentration, straining to remember exactly why he had been upset. Dr. Neville smiled kindly, and untied the gag from around Ansem's head. Gently, he removed it, pouring a small amount of water into his mouth.

"See?" Dr. Neville said, above him. "Relaxed."

Ansem didn't bother responding; he couldn't seem to find the will power.

Dr. Neville lifted the small device, checked a few dials, and looked down at Ansem in sympathy. "Just remember." He warned. "This will be over soon."

Ansem's sluggish brain registered the words, but the meanings dissipated quickly, leaving him with only a vague notion of what the doctor was saying. He was pondering the idea of sleeping, merely for the blissful escape from this off-balance, shaky version of reality, when a blinding, white hot pain shot through his body, stealing his breath.

Ansem's heart pounded, and he gasped, adrenaline shooting through his body, while his brain struggled to understand the harsh conditions it found itself in. His eyes filled with tears, and he wailed as another strike of the agony hit him. His back arched away from the table, and his scream cut through the silence in the room.

Back in the room with the cages, Andrew's eyes brimmed over with tears as he heard his brother screaming. He buried his head in his arms, rocking back and forth slightly, moaning quietly.

"Please," He whispered. "Please, somebody save us."

* * *

_Scott shivered in the brisk air, his arms chilly and exposed, cuffed to the porch railing above his head. He tested the handcuffs hopelessly. Of course they wouldn't give; they never had. _

_He couldn't exactly recall what had brought him to this position again. It didn't really need to be anything specific. His Carer, Aida Lisson, was prone to punishment without cause. She blamed his attitude, or talking back, or even looking at her "snarkily". She was very creative. _

_Scott shifted, growing numb from being out there for so long. He wondered if Aida had forgotten about him. It wouldn't be the first time. After all, it's hard to remember someone you spend so much time trying to forget. _

_He heard the rumble of a car pulling into the driveway. He sighed in relief. It was probably Cody, Aida's son. He was a police man; it was from him that Aida stole the handcuffs. He didn't like it when she used his stuff to punish Scott. At least if Cody asked about the location of the handcuffs, Aida might recall that her charge was slowly freezing to death outside. _

_Scott heard a strange bang inside, as if the door slammed hard against the front hall wall. He frowned. If that was Cody, he was about to get a stern scolding. Aida hated it when doors were slammed. She felt it "disturbed the aura of her inner soul". Whatever that meant. _

_Strange voice echoed out of the house, shouting. Scott caught the sound of Aida's voice, high and shrill. She was protesting, but she sounded fearful. Scott didn't truly like his Carer; she was cruel and had never shown him any sympathy or love. However, he didn't like the sound of the normally strong and intimidating woman pleading with intruders. He feared anyone that could make Aida Lisson beg. _

"_Where is he?" One of the men in the house shouted. Aida screamed once, and Scott's eyes widened. Were they talking about _him_? _

"_I-I don't know!" Aida cried. Scott blinked in shock. Aida was protecting him. She might beat him with a spoon, or force him to go without a meal, or leave him out in the cold for hours, but when there was a squad of intruders keen on his capture, she put herself in harm's way to keep him out of the line of fire. _

"_Where is Scott?!" The man shouted again. Scott heard crashes from the house, as though the men were searching through the cabinets. _

"_Scott?" Aida's voice became quieter, less alarmed, though it still shook. Scott could barely make it out. "Scott is out back." She laughed. "Tethered to the porch." Another shaky laugh. "I thought you meant my son." _

_The door to the back porch flew out, and Scott turned his head to the side to keep the dust from his eyes. He saw the men come closer, and he subtly turned his hand so that his palms were facing them. One man came closer, and reached up as though to free his hands. Once he got in range, Scott gripped the man's arm with his hand, and pulsed. He felt a rush as the electricity cycled through his body, and transferred into the man. _

_The man convulsed, falling to the ground. He shook, limbs spasming randomly, but his colleagues merely stepped over him. One man lunged forward, and slid a needle into Scott's neck before he could reach him. _

_Scott thrashed away from the hand, but it was too late. He could feel the cold drugs running through his body, and he fought to keep his eyes open. _

_The last thing he saw was the group of men reaching toward him, uncuffing his hands, and placing a hood over his head. Then everything went dark. _

Sam gasped, his eyes shooting open. His breath shuddered, and the lights seemed too bright. Wincing, he closed them again.

"Sam?" Mary's voice came through to him. "Do I need to call an ambulance?"

He groaned, reliving his previous experience with the hospital. "No." He managed to choke out. "Can' help."

Sam felt her cold hands on his forehead. "Sweetie, you're burning up."

"No...jus'...tired…" He slurred. He opened his eyes cautiously, and a blurry Mary came into view. Her expression was a mix of concern, relief, and genuine sadness. Gingerly, Sam eased himself up, and wiped the sweaty hair out of his eyes. Mary kept a steady hand on his back. As the stabs of pain waned, he was able to breathe easier.

"It was another psychic." He whispered, and heard Mary inhale sharply. He looked up at her tearfully. "When is this going to end?" He whimpered. Mary pulled him to her chest, gently stroking his hair.

"It's okay, Sam." She murmured. "I promise everything will fine."

* * *

Ansem screamed as yet another agony-inducing shock shot through his system. He sagged against the table, feeling weak and dizzy.

"There we go." Dr. Neville said cheerfully. "All done, Ansem." He walked over to the boy, and began pulling off the small stickers and wires that he had added throughout the experiment. "If I may, you did much better than your brother." He congratulated.

Ansem felt a jolt of fear just as painful as the shock. Andrew had gone through this. He had felt this horrible anguish, and screamed just as Ansem had.

_No._ Ansem protested weakly. _I can't let that happen. _

"Leave Andrew alone!" He shouted, not using his power. He considered this, but knew that Mr. Pearson would catch on in a second if he tried.

Dr. Neville smiled in amusement, and looked affectionately at Ansem. "Don't worry, Ansem." He laughed good-naturedly. "Andrew isn't getting any more attention than you. You don't have anything to worry about."

Ansem snarled in disgust. "Leave him out of this." He pleaded. "We have the same powers. You can test on me anything that you need to test on him."

Dr. Neville turned toward him, considering. "That's true." He allowed. "However, I would require a more solid form of reimbursement."

"Name it." Ansem said in a steely voice.

"Well, we don't have many psychics working on our side." Dr. Neville informed him. "We will, that much is certain, but at the moment, we are slightly...shorthanded...in that department. We could really use a person of your talent."

Ansem's mouth tasted sour. "You want me to work on your side? _Help_ you?"

"No, Ansem." Dr. Neville said, leaning close. "I want you to help your brother. After all, helping me, will make this whole experience better for Andrew in the end."

Ansem looked to the door, thinking carefully. "Andrew can't be harmed." He cautioned. "The moment he is…"

"Our deal is off." Dr. Neville agreed. "Do we have an agreement?"

Ansem hesitated, before caving. "Fine." He spat, glaring at the doctor. "Fine, I'll help you."

Dr. Neville smiled. "I was hoping you would."

* * *

**Let me know what you think. I'd love to hear your take on everything that's happening. **

**Also, tell me if there's some giant plot hole somewhere. If someone tells me about it early on, I can go back and fix it before I get in too deep with the story. If I don't hear about it in time, the hypothetical plot hole would have to stay. **

**Thanks! I appreciate everyone's support. **

**Cheers!**


	13. Monster

**Chapter 13 - Monster**

* * *

Ansem stared up at the ragtag building in front of him. He sighed, reluctantly taking a step forward.

"Go, Ansem." Dr. Neville's voice said in his ear. "Remember Andrew."

"I know." He growled. "I heard you the last four times you reminded me."

"I just want you focused. You cannot be careless or arrogant with this one." Dr. Neville cautioned.

Ansem growled again, and Dr. Neville silenced. Ansem had gone over the plan with him countless times, spitting out answers through gritted teeth. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to be the reason another psychic was captured. But they had Andrew. If he wasn't compliant, they would hurt him. Mr. Pearson had made that very clear.

Dr. Neville had made it seem as if Ansem was in control. As if he didn't have anything to lose, and Dr. Neville was the one following orders. However, Ansem wasn't naive enough to believe that. He might be helping them, which they clearly prefered, but they didn't need him. They functioned just fine without him, and if he put one toe out of line, they wouldn't hesitate to drag him back to the cages, bound and drugged. They wouldn't hesitate to torture or kill Andrew as punishment, either.

"Remember," Mr. Pearson had hissed at him before shoving him out of the car, and onto the street. "We only need one of you. That's the thing about twins," He whispered maliciously, grinning like the Chesire Cat. "One can always be replaced with the other."

With a deep breath, Ansem walked up to the large, decrepit building. It was the very embodiment of sadness and hopelessness. It was the kind of place that people compared Hell to. It was a Psychic Waiting Home.

Ansem felt bile rise in his throat as he pushed through the front doors. He remembered his Waiting Home well. It had been similar to this Waiting Home, though at his, he recalled how everything was sugarcoated. How perky all the "attendants" were. Not nurses, no, they weren't called nurses. They were "attendants", like on a plane. As if that made it any better.

The psychics weren't classified as prisoners, even though they were. They were called "residents". Their rooms were not cells, they were "apartments". It sickened Ansem while he and Andrew had been there. Why cover up something horrible with some shiny words? It didn't change the thing at all. It didn't make it better. Why even bother?

It had taken him a while to recognise the reason. Humanity. The people running the home had felt bad. For some reason, they had actually wanted to diminish the discomfort of the people forced into their halls. Once he'd realized this, Ansem's anger only grew. How could these people pretend to feel sympathy? If they really cared, they would do something to help the psychics, not just cover up their lies and deceit with comforting words and more deception.

However, he could tell from his first impression of this Waiting Home that the nurses here had not such misgivings. There were harsh bars over every window. There were guards posted at the different doors and elevators leading to the sections of the home. The second he entered, an ear-piercing siren blared. The nurse at the front desk cut it off sharply, and then stood, clacking her way over to Ansem.

"What is your business here, boy?" She asked, pointedly looking him up and down with a judgemental, suspicious expression.

"I'm here to see a friend." He said smoothly.

The nurse gave a harsh bark that, after a moment, Ansem interpreted as a laugh. "No outsider has friends in here, son."

"I do." He said firmly, and mentally pushed. _Bring me Jake Talley. _He urged her. A confused look flickered across her face, and he pushed harder.

"O-of course." She said uncertainly, and then a smile crossed her face, her eyes unfocusing slightly. "I'll go get your friend."

Ansem breathed out tensely. He had been worried that that wouldn't work. Now the question was, would she stay under his influence long enough for them to escape? He could feel the syringe full of sedative that he was gripping tightly, hidden up his sleeve. Ansem hoped he wouldn't have to use it. He wasn't even sure he knew how.

Ansem waited, his hands in his pockets, forcing a look of ease on his face. One of the guards looked over him, narrowing his eyes. Ansem nodded in a short greeting, and the guard slowly averted his gaze after a long moment. Ansem felt sweat slide down his neck.

Finally, the nurse returned, a confused boy by her side. He looked at Ansem suspiciously, a look Ansem recognized. It was the look he used to give every adult that took him in, pretending to care. It was the look a person gave another when they had been screwed over one too many times.

"Thanks." Ansem smiled at the woman. "We are going to leave. And you won't stop us." He mentally shoved the message, driving it deep into her consciousness.

A pained expression crossed her face, as if it was agonizing her to feel so conflicted. She seemed to choke for a moment, the words fighting to get out, while part of her fought to keep them in.

Ansem felt a flash of panic. Something was wrong. He wasn't doing it right. She was going to blow his cover. He'd be taken in here, and Andrew would have to do this. Hurt people. Capture psychics. Go through the experiments.

Thinking of Andrew jolted him out of his alarm. With a deep breath, he resolved to take a different approach. He looked up at the nurse, and gently eased the message into her mind, ending the harsh mental onslaught that he had been berating her with. Instantly, his efforts brought better results. He could feel the way his psychic message was taking root deeply in her consciousness, instead of merely forcing her to concede to his commands.

The nurse smiled brightly at them, and Ansem saw Jake's eyes widen in alarm. Ansem smirked. He'd probably never seen the nurse smile like that before.

"Alright then, go on, boys." She said with a little flutter of her fingers.

Ansem grabbed Jake's arm, and tugged him out of the building. As they crossed over the doorway, Ansem noticed Jake flinch slightly, as if expecting a lightning bolt to come down and strike him. He grinned.

"You're free, man." His smile faded when he remembered that he didn't organize the rescue alone. _Free, only to trade one Hell for another._

Jake stepped away from him. "Who are you? How did you do that?" His face raked over Ansem, suspicion radiating out of him. "What do you want with me?"

"Not here." Ansem said with a glance around. "I don't know how long they'll stay oblivious."

Reluctantly, Jake followed Ansem down the street, and around a corner. Ansem ducked into an alleyway, checking over his shoulder, before coming to a stop. Jake started to speak again, but Ansem held up a finger, mostly stalling for time now. Finally, he sighed, and turned back to Jake.

"My name's Ansem." Ansem nodded in greeting. "I'm just trying to help a fellow psychic."

Jake stared with wide eyes. "What, help me get sent to a camp? How long do you think a psychic can last on the run?" He turned away angrily. "Thanks for your help, but I'm going back before you make things worse." He started to step away.

Ansem felt a flash of panic. He couldn't fail in bringing in Jake. They might not give him a second chance. He remembered the syringe that was fastened in the inside of his right sleeve, just in case Jake tried to resist. The thought of using it repulsed Ansem, but to help Andrew, he would do anything.

Ansem reached out quickly, and grasped Jake's arm with his left. Jake stilled, tensing, but didn't try to shake him off. Ansem kept his grip on Jake, but held up his right hand to show he meant no harm.

"Just hear me out, okay?" Ansem said in a low voice. "There's a place I can take you. We're...trying to free psychics. Get revenge."

"What, like a rebel group?" Jake scoffed, but Ansem could see a glint of interest in his eyes. He might be wary of a rescue from a stranger, but an opportunity to take down the people who had ruined his life? That would intrigue anyone.

"More or less." Ansem said cautiously.

Jake squinted. "What do you need me for?" He asked.

"Dude, I read your file." Ansem said. He let an impressed smile cross his face. "Your strength? It's totally irreplaceable. And not to mention, awesome."

Jake blinked, taken aback by the flattery. His eyes narrowed again, his shields coming up in response to the unfamiliar territory.

"What's in it for me?" He asked slyly. Ansem rolled his eyes.

"Freedom, for one thing." He listed. "Revenge, for another. Power, a warm bed, food." Ansem frowned, his own words worming their way into his head, and he found himself deriving some sense from them. "Friends."

"Right, and what's the catch?" Jake laughed shortly. "My soul?" His smiled vanished, and he stared at Ansem nervously. "You aren't a demon, right?"

"No," Ansem said certainly. "Test me."

Jake hesitated. "Christo." He finally spat, and pulled away sharply, as though expecting Ansem's eyes to blacken. His brow furrowed in confusion when Ansem's eyes stayed clear.

Ansem smiled. "It's not a bad deal, Jake." He reasoned. "You just have to do what they say."

"Who?" Jake said quickly, suspicion rising again.

"What, you thought I could do this myself?" He laughed shortly, without humor. "No, there's someone else. They're in charge."

"What do they want?" Jake asked, but with less conviction. Ansem could tell that he was warming up to the idea.

"To save the psychics." Dr. Neville answered in Ansem's earpiece. Ansem flinched. "That's all we want."

"You sure have a funny way of showing it." Ansem muttered bitterly.

Jake narrowed his eyes. "What did you say?" He asked, taking a step back.

Ansem looked up at Jake. He yearned to tell him to run, to escape. He wanted to tell him to get as far away as he could, before he got too mixed up in all of this. But he couldn't. To save his brother, he would have to betray a fellow psychic.

"They want to save us." Ansem answered Jake. "They want to make a better world for us."

"That's all?" Jake questioned. Ansem nodded.

"So," He finished. "You in?"

Jake hesitated, looking around. Then he met Ansem's eyes, and Ansem saw the steely conviction in his eyes, forged from years of anger and frustration without a vent. Ansem let out a relieved breath. Those weren't the eyes of someone who would give up the chance to get revenge. They were the eyes of someone determined to get justice, no matter what form it took.

"Yeah." Jake said certainly. "I'm in."

Ansem smiled. He could have predicted that Jake would join willingly. After all, he had seen that angry, resentful look before. He was all too familiar with the expression.

It was what he saw every time he looked in a mirror.

* * *

"Sam, you want to come with me?" Mary called from the front hall. Sam perked up at the table.

"To pick up Dean?" He asked hopefully.

Mary smiled. "Yep. You've been cooped up all day; I figure you could use the time outside."

"Totally!" Sam darted out of the kitchen, and hastily pulled his shoes on. Mary laughed at the display.

Quickly, Sam ran out to the car, and got buckled. Mary followed, smiling good-naturedly.

As they drove toward the school, Mary slyly studied the boy sitting next to her. Even after him living with them for a few days, Mary couldn't seem to figure him out. He was a sweet kid, honest, helpful, kind. Just the kind of boy that Mary hoped Dean would always be.

However, Sam had a kind of hidden pain. A dark side that he rarely showed to anyone else. She suspected that was from his past. No, she knew it was. After all, living constantly with people that hated you, that disliked you, that wouldn't hesitate to tell you how much they wished you were dead...Mary couldn't even begin to imagine how much that would scar a child.

Mary pulled into the parking lot. She turned to Sam. "You want to go find Dean?"

He hesitated, looking at her cautiously. "Aren't you coming?" He asked.

Mary smiled. "I'm going to talk to the principal. About getting you back in school."

Sam quickly looked away, and cracked a small smile. "Good luck."

"I'll need it." Mary laughed. "Meet you back at the car, okay?"

Sam nodded, and hopped out. He walked toward the school, quickly at first, then slower. There were a few kids trailing through the parking lot, toward cars. They shot glances at him, whispering and nodding.

Sam felt his face redden. He should be used to this by now. He had been the center of attention for a long time. Somehow, though, it never got easier. Somehow, he never really got used to the stares, the pointing. He wasn't sure he ever would.

Sam ducked into the school, walking toward the Senior hall. He glanced down the hallway, frowning when he didn't spot Dean. Cautiously, Sam ventured down the hallway, looking at the various posters and signs that teachers had posted on the walls. He smiled wryly, wondering if this was where he would be in a few years. After all, if Mary succeeded, it was probably where he would be. Surprisingly, the thought didn't make him cringe in horror.

Sam kept walking, turning right, mindlessly walking through the halls. Could he stay here? With the Winchesters? A week ago, he would have dismissed the idea with a laugh. No, he would have said, Something will go wrong. Now, however, he could imagine staying with them. Growing up with them. The thought made him feel warm inside. Happy, his brain told him, You're happy.

Happy. Sam beamed. He hadn't felt happy for years.

Maybe it was finally time to be happy.

* * *

Sam pushed through another door, and stopped short, blinking in the sunlight. Somehow, he had wandered across the school, to the exit that led to the back parking lot. There usually weren't many cars there, and that day was no exception.

Sam scanned it halfheartedly, but paused when he saw Dean walk out from behind the a shed that housed some of the school's gym equipment. Sam felt relieved, and jogged out to meet him.

"Dean!" He called. Dean looked up, and his eyes widened in alarm. Sam froze, only a few feet away. Dean darted forward, grabbing Sam's arm sharply.

"Sam! What are you doing here?" He hissed.

Sam pulled his arm away, feeling slightly hurt. "Mary brought me to get you. Is that a problem?" He asked hotly.

"Oy! Winchester! Get back here!" Someone called from behind the shed. Sam looked up, confused, and opened his mouth to say something, but Dean interrupted him.

"Get back to the car, Sammy. I'll be there in a little bit, okay?" He said, pushing Sam urgently. "I have some business to take care of."

"No!" Sam protested. "What's going on, Dean?"

"Just get back to the car!" Dean ordered.

Suddenly, another boy walked out from behind the shed. Sam took a step back. The boy looked to be about Dean's age, a senior, with bare arms and rippling muscles. Something about him reminded Sam of something, or someone. He just couldn't put his finger on it. The boy laughed, crossing his arms arrogantly.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" He asked.

Dean stepped protectively in front of Sam, shielding him from the tall boy's view. "He's no one." Dean said defensively. "Just some kid."

Sam was surprised how much his words stung, even though he knew that Dean was only saying them to protect him. From what, Sam still didn't understand, but by the look of this kid, it was nothing good.

"Yeah?" The tall kid said in response to Dean. "Then you wouldn't care if I took a look at him…?" He trailed off, craning his neck slightly and moving to the left to get a look at Sam. Dean shifted, narrowing his eyes.

"Stop it, Mitchell." Dean growled. "This is between me and you. Leave him out of it."

Mitchell smirked. "No, this is between you, me, and my little brother. But I don't like to have any witnesses, you know."

Dean took a threatening step forward, clenching his fist angrily. His other hand held onto Sam's arm rigidly, as though afraid to let him go. Sam felt a thrill at his words. No witnesses? That sounded vaguely ominous.

So you do know the kid, huh?" Mitchell cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes, squinting to get a good look. "No way…" He looked back up at Dean, a suspicious, slightly malicious expression crossing his face. "That couldn't be the psychic boy? The one that started this whole mess?"

Sam frowned. What was Mitchell talking about? Dean's grip on his arm tightened. "Run, Sammy." Dean murmured. Sam felt his heart pound at Dean's serious tone. Suddenly, Dean shoved Sam toward the school, shouting.

"Go, Sam! Now!" He yelled, sprinting toward Mitchell. Sam stumbled, and then looked back, eyes wide, as Dean tackled Mitchell. They rolled over the ground, each landing their own punches. Finally, Mitchell broke away, and glared at Sam as more boys started peering around the edge of the shed.

"Get him!" Mitchell shouted, pointing at Sam.

_Now, that's way too cliche. _Sam thought in the split second before he started running. He burst through the doors, pounding down the hallway. He heard dozens of footsteps pursuing him, and adrenaline gave him an extra burst of energy. Sam careened around a corner, and pulled himself shortly into a doorway, pressing himself against the small corner of shadows.

The crowd of boys sprinted past, shouted amongst themselves. Sam hardly dared breathe, hissing tightly from between his teeth. He waited until the sounds of the crowd had dissipated, and then stepped out of his hiding place, planning to backtrack, and find another way out of the school.

As he turned a corner, he smacked into someone. Hopefully, he looked up, but his heart fell when he saw one of the boys from the pack that had chased him. The kid was tall, at least six foot four, and had blonde hair that stopped at his ears. He didn't look like he regularly worked out, but easily had seventy pounds on Sam. Sam scrambled backwards, but the boy grabbed his t-shirt, yanking him back harshly.

"Found him!" He shouted loudly. Then, leaning down toward Sam's ear, he hissed, "That move only works in movies, kid."

The kid shoved Sam forward, still gripping the back of his t-shirt collar tightly. More boys, and even some tough looking girls, joined them as they made their way back to the back parking lot, and they taunted Sam, shoving him and spitting in his direction.

The blonde kid, Aiden as someone called him, dragged Sam over behind the shed. Sam gasped when he saw Dean, supported by two older boys holding his arms. Dean was sporting black eye, and a split lip that Sam hadn't noticed before. Standing next to Mitchell was a younger boy, about Sam's age. Sam exhaled sharply when he saw a familiar face. One of the people that had first greeted him on his arrival. He realized why Mitchell had seemed so familiar.

Standing next to Mitchell was his apparent younger brother. TJ.

* * *

Sam snarled. "You!" He growled, lunging forward thoughtlessly. Aiden jerked him back, pinning his arms behind him.

"Not so fast, kid." Aiden said, holding Sam's wrists with one hand, and the back of his neck with the other. Sam tensed up, fury pulsing throughout him.

TJ saw Sam, and his eyes narrowed. "That's the psychic freak." He said angrily.

Mitchell nodded. "I thought so." He turned to Dean. "You shouldn't have touched my brother, Winchester." He said ominously. "I don't forgive easily."

"Neither do I." Dean spat. "Your weasel of a brother deserved it for hurting _my _brother."

Mitchell took a step forward, and drove his fist into Dean's stomach. Dean collapsed forward, groaning lowly. The boys supporting him let him fall to the ground.

"No!" Sam yelled, and struggled to escape Aiden's grip.

"Not yet, freak." TJ taunted. "Your turn will come."

"Get up, Winchester." Mitchell ordered Dean, but Dean stayed doubled over on the ground, sucking in pained breaths. "Get up!" He shouted, and slammed a kick into his ribs.

Dean moaned in pain, and Sam gritted his teeth, struggling pointlessly. He felt tears fill his eyes, because he felt so helpless, so useless, so _frustrated. _

Mitchell turned to Sam. "What?" He teased. "You want to try your luck against me?"

Sam shook out of Aiden's grip, and Aiden let his hands fall. Sam squared his feet, and raised his fists, his whole body yearning revenge.

"No, Sammy…" Dean moaned. "Let me deal...get away…."

"Nah, Winchester, _Sammy_ is staying right here." Mitchell said smoothly. "He's part of this, too."

Mitchell took a slow, sneaky step forward, and suddenly, threw a sharp punch toward Sam's jaw. He barely ducked in time, only to feel a knee slam into his stomach, driving all the air out of his lungs. Sam fell back, gasping like a fish, and coughed. Mitchell laughed.

"Not so tough without your older bro, huh?" Mitchell taunted. "Oh, wait, he isn't even your _real_ older brother, is he? He's just part of a family _paid_ to take care of you. You're just a nobody with a fake family." He laughed cruelly. "Poor little Sammy, all alone-"

Dean slammed into Mitchell's legs, forcing him to the ground. Taken by surprise, Mitchell tried futilely to shield his face as Dean beat him, punching his face, side, stomach.

"He's...not...alone…" Dean grunted with each punch. "He...has...me…"

Sam felt his heart warm, the soft emotion nestling next to worry and fear. Despite their situation, he couldn't help appreciating Dean's show of support.

The other boys, who had been standing shell shocked when Dean tackled their ring leader, lept into the fray, tearing Dean away from Mitchell. As a group, they attacked him, landing kicks, punches, and slamming elbows into his ribs.

Aiden lunged for Sam, and snagged his shirt just as Sam was about to jump into the fight. The older boy held him back, a smirk plastered on his face.

"No! Dean!" Sam yelled, desperation filling his voice. He wrestled with Aiden, shouting for his older brother.

Suddenly, a glint of metal caught his eye. He looked to the source, and his eyes widened with horror when he caught sight of Mitchell, breathing hard, humiliation bright in his eyes, and anger radiating off of him. Gripped in his hands, clenched tight, was a long switchblade, fully extended.

Dread and terror wrestled for control in Sam as Mitchell stalked toward the small crowd, still attacking Dean.

"Pick him up." Mitchell ordered, in a low, steely voice. The boys paused, looking uncertainly to their leader, noting the slight note of madness in his voice. "Now!" Mitchell barked, and they scrambled to fulfill his orders.

Dean was hoisted to his feet, his head lolling. With tantamount effort, Dean hefted up his head, glaring Mitchell in the eye. Sam felt a flash of pride as he witnessed Dean's courage, staring his enemy straight in the eye.

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?" Mitchell laughed sharply. "Why do you care what happens to him?! He's nobody! He's a little twerp from the street! He's garbage! Filth!"

Dean breathed heavily, and turned his head to the side. He spat sharply, and a gob of blood landed on the dusty asphalt. "He's better….than you or your rotten brother….will ever be." Dean retorted defiantly.

Mitchell let out a roar of fury, and his arm swung down, aiming to slash the sharp blade across Dean's face. Time seemed to slow as Sam saw Dean's eyes widen with involuntary fear, and an animalistic rage flowed through Sam's body.

He heard his heart pounding in his ears, and he forced his way out of Aiden's grip, feeling like he was encased in molasis. He shoved his hands out, screaming in panic. He only meant to push Mitchell away a few feet, but instead he soared off of his feet, flying backwards five feet, ten feet, twenty feet. He slammed into the ground, rolled, before coming to a stop. Motionless.

The boys holding Dean let go out of shock, and stared at Sam. There was no anger in their eyes. No hatred. No respect. Fear, terror, and horror shone out of all of their eyes. Sam shook his head, shock rendering him speechless.

"I didn't…" he whispered, trailing off. "I didn't mean to…"

TJ broke out of his stupor, sprinting over to his brother's side. "Mitch?" He called cautiously. "You okay?" The older boy didn't respond. TJ collapsed to his knees next to his brother. "He isn't moving." He said tearfully, quietly. Sam realized with a start that TJ was crying.

"He isn't moving!" TJ shouted at the group, looking desperate. "Get help! Get someone!" Four boys stumbled toward the door before breaking into a mad dash from the parking lot.

TJ glared angrily at Sam through his tears. "You killed him, you monster! _You killed him_!" Rage filled his voice, but he broke off to fall over his broken brother, sobs echoing around the parking lot.

Sam felt bile rise to his throat as he stared at the body. The boy. Was he...could he be...dead? Could Sam have killed someone? Fear clenched his heart. This was a different fear than he felt when Mr. Pearson was around, different from when he thought of the psychic kidnappings. With those, he feared for himself, because of someone else. Now, he feared for everyone else, because of himself.

He looked down at Dean, who stared at the body in horror as well. Then his gaze shifted, and it wasn't the body that he stared at in horror. It was Sam. Dean shook his head, at a loss for words, and Sam felt tears sting his eyes.

"I didn't mean to." He whispered desperately. "I swear, I didn't mean…"

The doors burst open, and four men in gray uniforms sprinted out, followed quickly by paramedics carrying a stretcher. One of the gray men crashed into Sam, forcing him to the ground. Sam cried out in pain as his jaw connected solidly with the concrete. He felt the man twist his arms behind his back, handcuffing them tightly. Tears slipped from Sam's eyes.

He looked up at Dean, not expecting help, but hoping for forgiveness. Dean looked at Sam, with a sort of fear, concern, and horror. At Sam. At what he had done. There was no forgiveness in his eyes. Only that horrible look that said, _What have you done?_

The last time people had come for Sam, he had been defended. Protected by John, aided by Mary, and ultimately saved by Dean. But this time, John was absent, Mary was off fighting for a future that was now never to be his, and his one true savior, Dean, was disgusted and horrified with what he had done. With him.

When they dragged him away, Sam went without a fight. He walked limply, numbly, emptily into the black car that waited outside, past the gaping students, the crying teachers, the weary policemen. He was silent as his wrists were bound to cuffs attached to the seat in front of him, his hand sealed in dark gloves. He didn't resist as his feet were cuffed to the floor, the seat belt locked into place, the blindfold tied around his eyes, and the gag stuffed crudely into his mouth. He let it happen, knowing he deserved it, deserved it all.

And as they drove away, he forced himself to listen to every second of TJ's anguished cries, and replayed them in his head when they got too far away to hear. Sam knew he deserved to suffer, to listen to that kind of pain, over and over and over.

_I'm a monster, _he confessed, TJ's cries ringing in his ears.

_Monster._

* * *

**My eyes ligit teared up writing that. Dah, god, I'm crying….oh, god. SO MUCH INTERNAL PAIN!**

**(regaining control) *Deep Breath***

**Okay. Better. **

**Sorry it's been so long. I had to get the inspiration back. And I believe I did. Along with a sick, malicious joy for destroying Sam. (sorry, buddy)**

**Let me know what you think. Did Sam kill Mitchell? If so, did he deserve it? What do you think will happen to Sam now?**

**Also: What do you think of Ansem? He's become a bigger character than I ever thought he would, and I kind of enjoy seeing the change in his character. Do you like having some of the spotlight on him? Your answer won't change what I have planned for him, but it's nice to get feedback. **

**And, guess what? I believe this is the longest chapter that I have ever written! Awesome right? I guess emotional pain helps fuel my writing creativity...kinda sad. : )**

**Cheers!**


	14. Aftermath

**Chapter 14 - Aftermath**

* * *

Sam stared bleakly at the bright lights glaring down at him. They were strong lights, positioned just above the metal table Sam was lying on. The metal restraints trapping his wrists bit into his skin. Sam vaguely remembered panicking when the technicians had strapped him down. He had thrashed, screaming and fighting. It had taken four of them to finally subdue him.

He recalled one of the technicians covering his face with a thick plastic mask. The air had turned bitter and heavy, and then the fear had just...melted away. He was left with a foggy, stuffy feeling in his head, and it was impossible to focus on anything.

The mask was still attached to his face, held in place by a strap going around to the back of his head. The air inside the mask was thick, and smelled of a sedative. Sam tried not to think about how it smelled every time he inhaled, as the scent made him feel sick to his stomach. Normally, Sam would have panicked at the feeling of suffocation, but he just didn't seem to have the energy.

Sam lifted his head slightly as the door swung open. A man in a lab coat walked in, followed by a tall dark skinned male in plain scrubs. Sam guessed he was either a nurse, assistant, or orderly. Or perhaps some combination of the three.

"Who do we have here?" The doctor said, picking up Sam's chart from the end of the bed. "Samuel?" He glanced up at Sam's face, and his brow furrowed when he saw the mask on Sam's face.

"What happened?" He turned to the nurse.

"He had some kind of panic attack when they brought him in. Freaked out when they tried to get him on the table." The nurse said simply. "They thought it best to give him a relaxant. Should still be in effect."

"Hmm." The doctor said, almost in disapproval. "Any clues as to the origin of the attack? Something someone said? Did? Something he saw?"

The nurse shook his head. "I think it was the table...the restraints. The sight of it. The thought of going back on it. Must have brought back some God-awful memories from first getting processed."

"That's never a pleasant experience to recall." The doctor sighed. "I'm not sure it warrants an anxiety attack, however."

"From his records, it looks like he was processed at the Dallas facility." The nurse said as an explanation.

"Ah." The doctor nodded. "Yes, that would explain it. They tend to use more...ah..._unorthodox_ methods."

The nurse chuffed. "That's an understatement. You know, I've heard that the state is starting to consider shutting the place down. Some people are questioning the ethics of sending a child to that...place."

Sam shuddered when they talked about the Dallas facility, where he had been a captive for his first five weeks after his abilities had been discovered. Undergoing tests and scans. Shots. Treatments. He remembered the cruel doctors and scientists. He remembered the bleak, featureless cells. He remembered the cries of other children echoing down the halls, wailing for parents, for food. Sometimes, for death.

Sam let out a shudder and a low moan. He felt freezing, and his hands were trembling. The doctor walked to his side. His eyes were kind, and held concern. Sam's breath sped up minisculely with fear when the nurse came up on his other side, making him feel trapped.

The doctor reached under Sam's head, and unfastened the strap that kept the mask on his face. "There you go, son." He said soothingly. "Let's get you breathing some real air."

He lifted the mask from Sam's face, and Sam gasped, sucking in the cool, fresh air. The doctor sighed, looking relieved. The doctor unlatched the restraints quickly, ignoring the slight protests from the nurse. He placed a hand on Sam's back, and pushed up, helping him into a sitting position.

"Thank you." Sam whispered, his hands still trembling.

"You're welcome." The doctor said kindly. "Now, Samuel, we need to perform a few tests, alright?"

Sam shivered, and swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. He shivered again, this time from the cold, and the doctor looked up at the nurse.

"Albert, could you grab a blanket from the cabinet?" He asked. Albert nodded, and walked over to the sink, crouching down to search through the storage space underneath.

"Samuel, I understand you were first processed at Dallas. Am I correct?" The doctor asked in a gentle voice. Sam glanced up and read his name tag. Adam Berkely.

"Samuel?" Dr. Berkely called his attention back to the question, and Sam nodded weakly.

"Well, I should inform you that our methods differ quite dramatically from those of that facility." Dr. Berkely said comfortingly. "The most important thing to remember with these tests is to stay calm. Many of the doctors and nurses here have little patience and a short fuse. They work with dangerous, unbehaving psychics all day, and as a result, have little tolerance for anyone they feel may cause them harm. However, if you aren't threatening, they won't have any cause to use extreme measures."

Sam nodded, staring down at the metal table.

"What are the tests for?" He asked quietly.

"Mostly to measure if your power has grown stronger." Dr. Berkely said. "And then only a few rudimentary physical examinations to make sure that you are physically healthy."

Albert returned, and draped the blanket over Sam's shoulders. Sam closed his eyes, remembering why he was here in the first place.

"I didn't mean to." He protested weakly. "I didn't...he was going to...and I…"

"I know." Dr. Berkely said calmly. "Things aren't usually as they seem, are they?"

Sam shook his head, eyes still clamped shut.

"Let's get through some of these tests, alright?" Dr. Berkely said.

Sam nodded. He felt comforted by the man's kindness, and yet it still raised all of his inner guards. This is what friendship and kindness bought you. A one-way trip to a psychic work camp, where he would spend the rest of his life. His shoulders slumped at the thought.

No, kindness was a short term pleasure. One that always seemed to come back and bite him in the end.

* * *

Dean leaned heavily on his mother as they walked into the kitchen. She deposited him in a chair, and walked quietly over to the sink. Dean stayed silent, still processing what had happened that afternoon himself.

"_Dean!" Mary cried when she spotted him crouched on the ground. She sprinted over, placing a hand on his back. "Honey, what happened?"_

_Dean stared out at the medical people standing over Mitchel. "He's gone." He rasped. _

"_What?" Mary asked fearfully. "Who's gone, Dean?" _

_Dean looked up at his mother. "Sam." He said, feeling shocked. "Sam's gone, Mom." _

Mary walked back over, and wiped the blood off Dean's chin gently, and cleaned lightly around his eye as well. Dean winced, and pulled back. Mary faltered, and with a sigh, set the cloth down.

"What happened wasn't your fault, Dean." Mary said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Dean nodded. "I know." He murmured. "That's not what's bothering me."

Mary frowned, and pulled over a chair. She took a seat, gently gripping Dean's hands in her own. "Then what's wrong?"

He looked up at his mother, and Mary saw the look in his eye. "Mom, you didn't see him. You didn't see his expression. He threw that kid twenty feet! And I just…" He trailed off, hanging his head. "I didn't think Sammy could do something like that."

"I know." Mary nodded. "If it helps, Dean, I don't think he meant to."

Dean closed his eyes, momentarily pained. "If he's that powerful without even trying, what are the odds of the Committee letting him free again?" Dean said in despair.

Mary looked at her son, the joy of her life, and a motherly instinct urged her to lie to him, not for the first time in his life. Especially when he was young, she had told half-truths, sometimes outright fabrications of the truth. When his goldfish had died when he was five, she had claimed that it was using a complicated fish language to say that it was ready to go back to the sea. When John came home, heartbroken from a hunt gone wrong, she had told Dean that work had just been hard, not deadly. She had lied, little white lies, in order to protect him. She couldn't help it.

Even as Dean had grown up, Mary, though she stopped lying, had always watered down the truth in order to shield him from the harsh reality of whatever they were facing. Mary had never wanted him to face the world head on, and after all the horrible things that Mary had seen growing up with her father as a hunter, she had vowed to defend her baby from any and every horror that the world contained.

However, in the short time that Dean had been looking after Sam, she had seen a change in him. The same defensive, maternal instinct that was ingrained in her seemed to have taken root in him, and she had watched him turn from a boy that was used to hiding behind his mother, into a young man that was willing to do anything to protect someone that was important to him.

Mary met her son's eye, and all thoughts of protecting him flew out of her head. He wasn't a little boy anymore. He was a big brother who deserved the truth.

"There's no chance that they'll let him go." Mary said in a low voice. "No chance, Dean."

* * *

Sam tensed as they entered a bright room. It stank of chemicals, and his chest tightened in response. He swallowed nervously when he noticed the large machine taking up the middle of the room.

It closely resembled an MRI machine. Sort of a giant tube, with a sliding cot sticking out of the middle. The whole setup reminded Sam of a mouth, complete with lolling tongue, ready to swallow him. His heart pounded loudly, and fear made him want to run.

Dr. Berkely placed a comforting arm around Sam's shoulders, and Sam shuddered at the sudden contact. Gently, Dr. Berkely urged Sam forward, guiding him towards the machine.

As they neared, Sam saw the straps attached to the tongue, and he felt adrenaline set his heart racing. He felt a line of sweat run down his neck, and he could feel his hands trembling lightly.

"Samuel, we need you to take a seat here." Dr. Berkely gestured to the tongue, and Sam closed his eyes, trying to hold down the bile that rose at the thought of being tied down as the machine sucked him in, darkness surrounding him, unable to move, to escape…

He snapped his eyes open, and saw Dr. Berkely staring down at him in pity. Sam narrowed his eyes, and gritted his teeth. He was determined not to show any more weakness in front the man. He could tell that he meant well, but the one thing that Sam didn't need was pity.

His heart ached as he forced himself down, and took a deep breath, relaxing as the straps were fastened tightly. He allowed one tear to fall down his face, trailing into his hair, as the machine pulled him in with a loud hum.

He didn't need pity. He needed his brother.

* * *

"You want us to do _what_?" Ansem exclaimed in disbelief. Jake sat next to him, mouth agape, sitting in a stunned silence.

"You heard me." Dr. Neville said calmly, fingers intertwined and resting on his desk top.

"Sir…" Ansem trailed off. "Infiltrating a Psychic Waiting Home was risky enough, but this? This is suicide!"

"I have confidence in your abilities." Dr. Neville assured them. "And, this time, you'll have Jake to help you. Two heads are better than one."

Ansem looked to Jake, at a loss for words. The fear shining in them was enough to spur Jake on to speak.

"Sir, your plan...it's risky. Even assuming that Ansem and I could find a way in without really becoming trapped, finding the target-"

"Target_s_." Dr. Neville corrected with a smile. "There are two of them, you remember."

Jake closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. "Of course, sir, I remember." He said tightly. "However, finding them and breaking them out along with us, without being discovered...it could prove difficult. It would be very complicated."

"Well, then, you'd better _simplify_ it." Mr. Pearson snarled, walking up behind Dr. Neville's desk. "These two are absolutely essential to our cause, and their extraction is a must."

Ansem narrowed his eyes. He knew that Dr. Neville was doing the right thing, or at least believed that he was. But Ansem wasn't sure of Mr. Pearson's end goal. It was clear from the beginning that he despised psychics, and didn't care much for any of them in particular, which was why Ansem couldn't understand his motivation. Why help a cause to free those you hated?

He didn't know how many times he had been tempted in the last few days to use his power and order the man to speak the truth; to reveal what he was after. Ansem had only resisted the urge because he didn't dare do anything that would jeopardize Andrews safety. And, he somehow felt that, with Mr. Pearson, even if he ordered the truth, he wouldn't get it.

"Yes, sir." Jake said respectfully. "When do we leave?"

Ansem flickered a glare over at Jake. Ever since Jake had learned that Dr. Neville and Mr. Pearson had been behind his rescue, he had decided that their word was law. While Ansem was beginning to understand their motive, and see that their plan was going to bring a good thing, he still wasn't prepared to grovel in front of them, not after what they had done to the rest of the psychics.

"Well, we'll need a day to prepare the transportation and accommodations inside the facility." Dr. Neville estimated. He placed a slender finger on his chin, considering. "I'd say we'd be able to send you two out on Saturday."

Ansem's eyes bugged. "That's only two days away!" He protested.

"Do you need more time for something?" Mr. Pearson asked coldly, regarding him with steel in his eye.

"It's just…" Ansem hesitated. "What's the hurry? They aren't going to move him or anything, right?"

Mr. Pearson lunged forward, grabbing the front of Ansem's shirt. He yanked him to his feet, shoving his face up to Ansem's.

"Do you know what happens at a camp, boy?" He snarled.

Ansem shook his head frantically, the madness in Mr. Pearson's eye unsettling him.

"Well, they have their own personal committees." Mr. Pearson informed him cryptically. "Except, these committees don't decide if the psychic will stay or go, or where they'll end up."

He dropped Ansem, shoving him back roughly. Ansem stumbled backwards, breathing heavily. Jake watched Mr. Pearson warily, tensing to run. Mr. Pearson, having regained control, glared at the two in hatred.

"Those committees decide if the psychic _lives_ or _dies_." He spat. "And if they're thought to be too dangerous, they are put down, like dogs."

Ansem's eyes widened, along with Jake's. Horrified, he took a step back.

"And you want to send us there?!" Ansem exclaimed. "I don't want to die!"

"Neither do the two that you will be rescuing." Dr. Neville placated him. "Imagine how grateful they will be when you save them from that terrible fate. When you save their lives."

Ansem pulled Jake from the room, and they stood, shell-shocked, in the hallway, silently running over what they had heard.

"What do we do?" Jake asked desperately.

Ansem glanced down the hallway, towards where Andrew was being kept, and his shoulders sagged in defeat.

"We do what they tell us to." Ansem decided solomnly. "I don't think we have another choice."

"Are we really going to do this?" Jake asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Ansem said grimly. "We are going to be the first psychics to break _into _a psychic work camp."

* * *

Sam stepped out of the car, looking up at the large gray building in dread. Despite all that he had heard about psychic work camps, this building seemed to surpass all of his expectations. The tall gates topped with barbed wire seemed more ominous than described, and the bleak setting seemed even more dismal.

A guard slid out of the car behind him. Sam felt the man grip him arm tightly, to the point of pain.

"No funny business." The man growled. Sam dipped his head in agreement, and the man grunted, satisfied, and pushed Sam toward the building.

The pair walked up to the giant gates, and the man pulled out a card, holding it up to the scanner. After a moment, the machine beeped, and with a slight groan, the gates swung open. As the guard guided Sam up towards the building, a small squadron of guards exited the building, moving to intercept them.

The guard halted, waiting patiently for the four men to reach them. The men stopped a few feet from the two. Sam drew back from the group slightly, intimidated by their strong arms and steely eyes.

"Is this 87763?" One of the guards asked curtly, stepping forward. He stood tall, almost seven feet, and had dark skin.

Sam winced when he heard his ID number. He hadn't heard it spoken since he was processed at Dallas, and had hoped never to hear it again.

"It is." His escort said gruffly. "You here to take him off my hands?"

The dark skinned man smirked, cynical humor in his eyes. "That's us." He stepped forward smartly, and snapped a chain onto Sam's handcuffs. He jerked on the chain, and Sam stumbled forward, gritting his teeth at the feeling of being a dog on a leash.

He glanced back for a second, and met his escorts eyes. Sam frowned in confusion when he noticed the doubt in the man's expression. Doubt, regret, and maybe a little sympathy. Was it possible that this man actually felt bad for him.

"Good luck, kid." The man murmured under his breath, so that only Sam caught it. Then, he quickly spun around, and made for the car they had arrived in.

Sam turned, and looked up at the building that the guards were tugging him towards. He eyed the tall surveillance towers, the impressive fences lining the property, and the windowless walls of the facility.

_Good luck, kid. _

Sam swallowed. It seemed that he would need it.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed. **

**I know it's been a while. A long while. Please don't kill me. : )**

**Let me know what you think about the character development, or the plot. I know not a whole lot happened in this chapter, but I'm planning for some action in the next one, don't worry! : )**

**Cheers!**


	15. Always United

Chapter 15 - Always United

**LINE BREAK**

Sam stumbled as he was dragged down the long, wide hallway. Five guards surrounded him, with the point guard the same one that had clipped on the chain in the yard. They marched quickly, leaving no time for Sam to take in his surroundings.

The guards pulled him through a series of doors, stopping outside a set of large double doors. A broad, dark haired woman in a suit stood with her hands clasped behind her, and a sour look on her face. The main guard holding Sam's chain stepped forward, and saluted, the other four following suit.

"At ease." The woman ordered, and the guards dropped their arms. She turned to the point guard. "You, stay." She looked at the other guards. "You all are dismissed."

"Yes, Ma'am." They chorused, and quickly marched off.

Sam looked at the woman in mistrust. She regarded him with cool eyes, a small, amused smile on her lips.

"Is this 87763?" She verified. The man nodded shortly, still gripping Sam's chain tightly. The woman looked Sam up and down, and smirked.

"Surprising that something so small could get into as much trouble as to be sent here." She said jauntily. Sam gritted his teeth and looked to the side.

"My name is Madam Meredith Vanector." She introduced herself. "You will refer to me as Ma'am. For that matter, any adult who addresses you here should be either Sir or Ma'am. There is no place for disobedience in our halls. Is that understood?"

There was a tense pause, and Sam glared daggers at the floor, holding the words the he longed to spit inside.

"Is that understood?" Madam Vanector repeated coldly, a dangerous edge to her voice.

Sam kept his mouth shut, head down, refusing to give her the satisfaction of responding.

_CRACK! _Sam gasped and fell back as the soldier holding his chain backhanded him harshly. Sam bit his tongue as the left side of his face smarted, and he willed himself not to cry. He had dealt with pain worse than this before, and a few days of kindness with the Winchesters was not going to weaken him.

Slowly, Sam raised his head, meeting the gaze of Madam Vanector. He straightened his shoulders and met her gaze squarely, refusing to be intimidated. His face throbbed, and Sam could feel a bruise forming.

Madam Vanector narrowed her eyes. "I can see you are an impudent one." She sneered. "You won't last very long with that attitude."

Sam felt chills run down his back, but he kept his stare steady. Another soldier marched up, and halted next to Madam Vanector, standing straight. Sam looked him over once, deducing that he couldn't have been more than 18 or 19, at most.

"Take him into the mess hall." Vanector ordered. "No evening meal."

The new soldier stepped forward and took hold of Sam's chain. He yanked on the restraint, pulling him towards the tall double doors just beyond Vanector. She stepped by to let them pass, watching Sam with a loathing look all the time. Two soldiers standing by the doors handles pulled the heavy doors open, with a nod to Sam's guard.

The soldier pulled him through the doors, revealing a large, almost gym-like room, set up with three columns of tables, benches along the sides. Hundreds of kids were seated at these tables, murmuring softly to one another. They all glanced up as Sam entered, looking him over with interest. Sam watched a group of older teenage boys look up and snicker to each other.

Sam looked to the floor, refusing to completely duck his head. The soldier pulled him to an open seat on one of the furthest tables to the right, with kids around his age. He was shoved down onto the metal bench, and the chain clasped to his hands chained to a loop on the edge of the table. Sam glared at the table, and he felt the girl sitting next to him shift. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a smirk fighting it's way onto her face.

The soldier glared at the other kids sitting near Sam. "No food will be shared, understood?"

The kids across from Sam nodded enthusiastically, and a chorus of "Yes, sir!" was shouted. To Sam, it almost seemed too eager. As if they were trying to mock him.

The blonde girl sitting next to him murmured a sarcastic, "Of course, _Sir._" The soldier looked down at her, but then something flashed across his face. Sam frowned when he recognized it. Fear. The soldier glared at the girl tightly, and then turned and walked quickly away, as though eager to get away from them.

The kids across from Sam laughed quietly. A large red haired boy smirked at the soldier's retreating form. "Did you see his face?"

A mexican girl with thick black hair nodded, giggling and shaking her head. "God, he must have only been nineteen!" whispered in amusement.

"Looked more like sixteen." A dark skinned boy mused, crossing his arms. "They're recruiting them younger and younger these days."

"It's because no one wants to sign up anymore." The girl sitting next to Sam said shortly. She flipped her blond hair over her shoulder, resting her elbows on the table. "Once their time is up, they leave. The directors are getting desperate enough to allow boys to play soldier."

"I don't know." Sam scoffed under his breath. "Those soldiers looked plenty old to me."

"Say something, squirt?" The blond looked at him in amusement. Sam met her eyes, and sat up squaring his shoulders.

"So what if I did?" He retorted, sizing the girl up. This place reminded Sam of the Waiting Home he had been in before his first Care home. Everyone on their own, every man for himself. And if you didn't prove yourself early on, people would label you as an easy target.

The girl snorted, unimpressed. "Sure, act tough." She laughed haughtily. "It won't win you any friends."

"Which you definitely want in a place like this." The redheaded boy across from him warned, raising his eyebrows. "You don't want to fly solo in here."

"My name's Toby." He informed Sam easily. Toby nodded at the mexican girl next to him. "That's Mariana." Mariana lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers at him with a flirtatious smile. "And Nico." He looked at the tall, quiet boy sitting on the other side of Mariana, who nodded solemnly in greeting.

Sam looked at the blond next to him, expecting an introduction. She raised an eyebrow, and met his gaze thoughtfully, as if considering something carefully.

"What's your name, squirt?" She asked with an air of nonchalance.

"Sam." He replied grudgingly.

She smirked. "Nice to meet you. I'd shake your hand, but…" She looked pointedly at the handcuffs. Her gaze slid back up to Sam.

"Anyway, welcome to The Roosevelt Psychic Rehabilitation and Confinement Center." She welcomed him with a sarcastic gesture around the room. "Crappy food, lumpy beds, and den mommies that feel the need to sedate you at the slightest movement."

Sam looked to the ground and smiled slightly. She reminded him vaguely of Dean. His heart ached at the thought, and he shook his head, trying to escape the pain.

"What's your name?" He asked.

The blond smiled daringly at him, her eyes full of rebellion, and held out a hand, covered with a black glove. "Lily." She introduced. "Lily Baker."

**LINE BREAK**

Scott awoke to the sound of crying.

That wasn't uncommon. It seemed to him that someone was always suffering, always hurting. And in the beginning, he had tried to help those that he heard crying, but as the years went on, he realized that there wasn't much of a point. You could help someone feel better, but while there was one person willing to build people up, there were hundreds just as ready to tear them down. And one person couldn't take on an army.

Still, the crying was persistent, and somehow, Scott couldn't sleep listening to it. He rolled over on the threadbare pad, blinking his eyes. The room was dimly lit, only a single light on in the room. Looking to his left, he could see the empty cage were Andrew used to be. Scott hadn't had the chance to get to know him very well, but he still felt sick when he thought of where he could be now.

Scott looked to the right, and spotted the girl named Ava, shaking in her cage. Her tears were nearly silent, her whimpers soft, but Scott could hear them clearly.

"Hey," He whispered gently.

Ava jolted, looking over at him in fear. "You startled me!" She protested weakly, trying to wipe her tears. Scott averted his eyes, not sure what to say.

"Are you okay?" He asked after a tense pause, knowing the answer.

Ava sputtered a tearful laugh. "I've been better." She understated, looking at him with a half smile, tear tracks still staining her face.

"I'm sorry." Scott apologized.

Ava fell silent. She stared at the floor of her cage, blinking quickly. "You didn't do anything." She said matter-of-factly. "It's not your fault."

"But still," Scott insisted. "I'm sorry."

Ava nodded, seeming to understand. "When are we getting out of here?" She asked quietly.

"Aren't you the one who's supposed to see the future?" Scott cracked weakly. Ava flashed a small grin.

"I'm scared." She admitted, looking at Scott with wide eyes. "Max hasn't said anything for days." She told Scott, glancing at the still form on her other side. "I think he might be going into shock. He was here first, and I think they experimented on him the most." Ava shuddered. "The things they did to me...no wonder he isn't talking."

Scott didn't say anything. Dr. Neville had only come for him once, but it was enough for him to never want to be in that room or around that man ever again. He would never forget his insistent eyes, constantly saying, _"Everything's fine, this is good, you are helping us." _

"Andrew hasn't come back, and neither has his brother. I'm scared something happened to them. Something that might happen to us." Ava continued.

Scott reached through the bars of his cage, stretching out his hand. Ava hesitated, looking to the door for a moment, and then did the same, reaching out her hand.

Scott held onto her hand, smiling reassuringly. "We'll get out of here." He promised.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." Ava said sadly, her expression weary.

"I don't have to be psychic to know that we are ten times more powerful than them." Scott said. "They can't break us. They can't break you."

"They already have." Ava whispered, her eyes filling with tears. 

"Don't let them take that from you, Ava." Scott begged. "Just hang on. Hang on until I can get us out of here."

"You can do that?" Ava whispered.

"I will." Scott promised. "I'll get us out of here. Or die trying."

**LINE BREAK**

Ansem stared at the door quietly, agitation simmering in his veins. They hadn't done anything. In nearly twelve hours. Ever since hearing about the plan to break into a Psychic Work Camp, adrenaline had forbidden Ansem to relax, to even calm down. He just kept thinking about how to sneak in, trick the guards, convince the targets to go with them, get back _out._ Now that he knew what they were going to do, he just wanted to _do _it.

Jake chuckled quietly on the other bed, sifting through an old comic book they had received. He shook his head, looking at a shot of The Avengers locked in intense battle.

"Stupid, how I used to think that people like these were the ones with the powers, right?" Jake laughed, looking at the pages in superiority. "Like I couldn't take them all down."

Ansem rolled his eyes. As Ansem's urge to act had gotten greater, it seemed that Jake's ego had inflated along with it. He always seemed to be bragging about how invincible they were, like being psychic wasn't a curse, a cruel twist of fate, but a gift.

"Does it really matter?" Ansem said irritatedly.

"But it does!" Jake insisted. "People practically worship the Avengers, you know? They think they're so awesome, but we...we're no different. We have powers."

"There is a difference." Ansem said bitterly, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of his bed. He looked down at the floor. "The Avengers aren't going to hurt people. They aren't real."

"Exactly!" Jake said enthusiastically. Ansem sighed quietly. It was clear Jake had been thinking about this for a while. It would be pointless to try to argue with him.

"Look, people think that The Avengers are so cool, but _we're _the real ones. We're the ones they should be worshipping." Jake said, shifting to sit on his knees. He stared at Ansem earnestly, holding intense eye contact. Ansem felt a dark feeling pooling in his gut.

"Worshipping?" He repeated hollowly.

"Yeah, cause we're practically gods." Jake said, his eyes bright.

"You're crazy." Ansem huffed, lying back on his bed. He looked up at the ceiling. "People are never going to worship us. It'll take a miracle just to get them to stop murdering us."

"We just have to show them how powerful we are." Jake said dreamily, looking off into the distance. "Once we show them what we're capable of, they'll have to worship us." He looked back at Ansem. "That's what Mr. Pearson said."

That was enough. Ansem stood up, crossing the room quickly. "I need to see my brother." He said over his shoulder to Jake. He pressed the button on the intercom.

"I want to see my brother." Ansem said, and took his finger off the button. There was a short pause, and then a burst of static.

"_Of course," _A silky, almost nasally voice said, sounding tinny in the machine. Ansem inwardly groaned. Pearson. _"And while we're at it assisting with your every whim, would you desire a million dollars? Maybe your own personal submarine?" _

"Shut up, Pearson." Ansem snapped. "Just let me see Andrew."

"_Insolent, aren't you? And after everything we've done to help you-" _His voice cut off suddenly. Ansem frowned.

"_Ansem, this is Dr. Neville." _A new voice came over the intercom. _"I'm unlocking your door now. Let's talk about your request." _

"Thank god." Ansem breathed sharply, glaring at the door until he heard the telltale click of the lock being retracted. Quickly, he pushed through the door, stepping into the cool hallway. He looked left, and saw Neville walking toward him. Without hesitation, he turned right, quickly running over the white tiled floor. He stopped when he reached room 7A. A blind covered a small window on the door, and Ansem reached up with a trembling hand, snapping back the shield.

His heart nearly stopped when he peered inside. Andrew was worse. He sat on a foam mattress in the corner of the room, leaning into the corner. A shackle on his ankle lashed him to the wall, making sure he wouldn't leave. There was a tray next to him, the food looking cold and stale. Ansem felt a surge of sickness when he thought of the rich, hot, gourmet meals that he and Jake had been enjoying ever since they began helping Neville and Pearson.

Ansem tried turning the handle, but it wouldn't budge. He slammed a hand against the door in frustration, and Andrew's eyes flickered to the door, though his body stayed limp against the wall. Ansem felt his body go cold when he saw the fear in his brother's eyes.

"What did you do to him?" Ansem said quietly, almost to himself. "_What did you do to him?!_" He yelled, desperately shaking the door handle, yearning for it to open. He felt hands grab him from behind, and he fought against them, but an immense strength dragged him away from the door, from his brother.

"Let go of me, Jake!" Ansem cried. "He needs me, Andrew needs me!" Jake held tight, pulling him further down the hallway to the two men who were waiting for them.

"He does, Ansem." A soothing voice placated him, and Dr. Neville stepped into view. "He needs you to fulfill your destiny, and free him."

"Then let me go!" Ansem begged, stopping his attempts to escape Jake's grip. They were pointless anyway.

"No, no, it wouldn't make sense to free him now." Dr. Neville insisted. "You free him now, he goes back to a life of imprisonment, maltreatment, abandonment. You must free The Leader. He will free the world. Then you can free your brother."

"I don't know what you mean." Ansem protested, a sob in his voice. Tears slid down his face, and he looked back down the hallway. What had they done to his brother, while he was away playing hero, for an insane cause with an insane goal?

"It's okay, Ansem." Dr. Neville said gently. "You will." He stepped forward, holding a syringe, and Jake held Ansem still, while Dr. Neville expertly slid the needle into his neck. Ansem gave a little whimper, and his body sagged, going limp in Jake's arms.

"You will."

**LINE BREAK**

After his not-dinner, Sam was brought to a small room where he was given a jumpsuit like the other kids were wearing, and his old tag was taken away. Sam was given a new tag to wear, a metal one like his last, only with orange plastic rimming the edge. Sam felt an odd tug at his heart when they carted his old tag away, like someone taking a long lost friend. It had caused him so much trouble in his life, but still, it had been the one thing that was _his_, that no one could take away.

They ushered him through the hallways, this time only with a chain attached to the cuff of his sleeve. Sam followed quickly, trying to remember the route they had taken, forming a map inside his head of his new prison. In his hands he held the few possessions he could now call his. An extra two jumpsuits to wear for nightwear and while another was in the wash, a plain toothbrush, under garments, a bristly hairbrush, and a water bottle were all he could call his now.

The guard pushed him inside one of the dormitories, and quickly slammed the door shut behind him. The faces of at least fifty young teens stared back at him. Sam stood still, watching them carefully, waiting for someone to make a move.

"Squirt!" Someone called out. Sam's attention darted down to the front. Huddled in a small group was the four kids that Sam had spoken to at lunch. The confident blonde, Lily Baker, was the one who had spoken. "Come here. You're with us."

In an instant, the quiet was shattered. Murmurings broke out, and people turned back to their friends, unconcerned by the new arrival. Sam stood silently for a heartbeat more, gauging the situation carefully. Was he really accepted, that easily? Was this Lily serious about her offer? Or was there something else going on?

Once more, Lily nodded Sam over, and the girl they called Mariana waved to him earnestly as well. Cautiously, Sam crossed the room, and took a seat near them.

"Good job." Lily said dryly. "You survived the first ten seconds."

"Of what?" Sam asked. There was a pause, and the group exchanged looks.

"Life here." The boy named Nico filled in. "It's not so easy. We tend to measure time in small intervals."

"You mean it's so hard to survive here that you count in seconds?" Sam scoffed, crossing his arms.

"No." Toby said sincerely. "Usually we count in hours."

Sam's eyes widened in shock, though he tried to cover it up. Once again, he felt a sense of dread. What was the point of trying to survive, if it only meant more time living in this place.

Lily's gaze dropped to his new tag. "Who did you hurt?" She questioned, sitting back slightly. Sam started, staring at her in surprise. "Whoever it was, I bet you hurt them pretty bad. Near fatally."

"H-how did you know that?" Sam stuttered.

Lily smirked. She pointed to his tag. "You're an Orange. Not a severe security threat, but maybe just a 'danger to society'." She put finger quotes around the last part.

Sam looked to the ground. He felt tempted to lie. Maybe not tell them anything. But when he looked up, into the faces of these kids, he saw kids who had been through a lot. Probably, a lot of what he had been through. He had found that talking to Dean helped, but he had always wondered how much nicer it would have been if Dean could even imagine what his life had been like. These kids didn't have to imagine. They had gone through it themselves.

"It was this kid. Mitchell." Sam started quietly. His voice caught on the name. "He attacked my… He attacked Dean. And he was going to… So I just…" Sam looked up, struggling for words, and found his anguish mirrored on all of their faces. He felt relief in his heart, not having to explain. "I think I killed him." He admitted in a low voice, looking at the floor. His head darted up when he heard a snort.

"I don't think you have to worry about that, squirt." Lily smirked.

"Yeah?" Sam asked defiantly. "And why's that?"

"Look at your tag, dingbat!" She retorted. "It's orange. Anyone who kills someone either gets red or gray. You got orange. Looks like whoever you attacked survived. Probably with major injuries, but death was not one of them."

Sam felt a rush of relief, so immense that he slouched, breathing deeply. He had wanted to ask about Mitchell to many authorities here, but he hadn't, assuming that they wouldn't appreciate the question. He had tried to tell himself that if Mitchell was dead, he deserved it, Sam was only doing the right thing, protecting his brother, but that wasn't really his problem. The problem was, Sam didn't like the idea that he had taken someone's life. Even for a good reason.

Sam looked up in happiness. "No one would tell me what happened to him." He gave a slight laugh. "I thought I killed someone." The knowledge made him feel weightless, and he opened his mouth to thank Lily, when her tag caught his eye. In the middle, it had her number, and some other acronyms and symbols to summarize her information, but that wasn't what had his attention. It was the rim. The _red _rim. His smile vanished.

Lily sighed, sitting forward. "Let's get this over with." She grumbled. "I told you that if you kill someone, you either get red or gray." She lifted her tag. "Obviously, I got red. Because the person I killed, was killed on accident. Don't ask me how they know; they could have other psychics who figure that out for all I know. Either way, those who killed on accident are put here and given red. Those who killed on purpose are given gray." Sam immediately glanced around for anyone with gray, and Lily shook her head. "All the Grays are in a separate facility. Pretty much just isolation, from everything and everyone. Little square rooms they live in day in and day out."

She sighed. "They give you a tag color depending on how dangerous you are. Some people kill on purpose to end up here, those get Gray. Some on accident, they get red." She explained, lifting her own tag. "Some people, like you, hurt somebody, either on purpose or accident, and get orange."

Lily nodded at Nico. "He's an orange, too. Fire Manipulation." Nico nodded solemnly. "Mariana's a blue. That's someone they bring in specifically to work for them. Control the other inmates, do specific jobs, yada yada yada. She can read minds, so don't even _think_ about lying to her."

Marianna winked at Sam. Lily continued. "Toby is a green, so he's judged a non-threat. The only reason he's here is because his Care homes kept throwing him out."

"I was too awesome for them." Toby said smoothly. "They couldn't handle…" He gestured a hand down his body. "...all this."

"I don't think anyone can." Mariana laughed, shoving him slightly.

Sam looked around at the other groups of kids. They were all closed off, occasionally glancing around suspiciously at one another.

"We don't tend to trust one another." Mariana answered, reading Sam's silent question. "I mean, you find a group, and you stick to that group. Like Toby warned you, it's not good to be on your own."

"Why don't you guys trust each other?" Sam asked, looking back at a cluster of kids behind them. One of them stood up, wiping off his pants and walking in their direction, calling back good-naturedly. "I mean, it's you all against the guards and stuff right?"

"Sure," The boy from the other group interrupted, stopping for a moment beside them. "Unless they take our bunk. Or steal our stuff. Which they always do."

"We've never taken any of your stuff, James." Nico said in an even voice.

"Right. I'm so sure." James sneered sarcastically. "I bet it just vanished by itself." He tossed his head, and went on his way. Toby mimicked him, comically, throwing his head back with a dumb look on his face. Mariana stifled a giggle.

Lily rolled her eyes at James's display. "Yeah, as you can see, we don't get along so well."

"But that mean's it's like a soap opera around here." Toby chimed in. "There's no end to the drama and entertainment."

Sam smiled, relaxing a little for the first time in days. Suddenly, he felt a spike of pain drive through his skull, and he gasped, reaching up to clutch his head.

"Sam?" Mariana looked at him in concern. She reached out a hand, diving forward when Sam collapsed onto his side. "Sam!" She looked up at Lily. "Do something Lily, help him."

Sam watched through squinted eyes as Lily got to her feet. Some of the small clusters of teens glanced over at Sam, but none seemed concerned. Not until Lily got to her feet.

She stormed up to the door, and pounded a gloved fist against it. "Hey!" She shouted. "Someone needs help in here!"

"Shut up," James said, crossing back to his spot on the floor. "We don't need them coming in here."

Lily turned on him fiercely. "He _does_!" She spat, pointing at Sam.

Sam looked up at her, in between spasms of pain, gripping his head. He could feel the beginnings of a vision coming on, and though he knew it was pointless, tried to push it away, only succeeding to increase the pain level. Sam let a small grown escape through his teeth.

Sam felt someone lift his head for a moment, shifting so that his head was cradled in a lap. Sam opened his eyes enough to see kind eyes and a gentle face. Mariana held Sam gently.

"It's okay," She murmured, and Sam fought to believe her as his head pulsed with pain.

"Come on, COME ON!" Lily screeched, slamming a foot against the door. "HE COULD BE DYING IN HERE! GET OFF YOUR LAZY-"

Sam felt another pulse rip through his skull, and this time, he saw a flicker of picture. He moaned, curling up tighter.

"Shh…" Mariana said. "Try to relax." He felt her hands covering his eyes, and after a moment, the pain abated slightly.

"What are you doing?" Toby asked loudly. Mariana shushed him.

"My little cousin used to get migraines." She informed him in a quiet voice. "It always helped when we turned out the lights. And kept things-"

She was interrupted by another crash by Lily. "COWARDS!" Lily bellowed, rattling the door.

Marianna flinched. "-quiet." She finished.

It didn't matter. Whether it was quiet or loud, bright or dark. It wouldn't make the vision go away. Help with the pain maybe, but Sam could feel the edges of the vision pulling at him, sucking away.

_A boy sat in a bare room, shackled to the wall. He shuddered, a tray full of old food left untouched by his side. "Ansem," He whimpered. "I need you." _

Sam was jolted from his vision for a split second by shock. This was one of the kidnapping victims he had witnessed being taken. The two brothers, Ansem and Andrew.

_Three children sat in separate cages, two desperately clinging to the others hand, the girl crying softly. "I don't think Max will last much longer." She whispered. "Whatever they did to him, if it doesn't kill him, I think he might just starve himself to death." She clung to the boy's hand. "I just hope Pearson doesn't come back." _

No! Sam recognized the two boys, one was the first kidnapping he'd seen. Max. The other was Scott, and Sam recognized the girl, though he couldn't name her. So John had been right. They had all been kidnapped by the same person. What about the brothers? Were they there as well?

_A boy similar to Andrew lay on a cot in what looked like a nurse's office. He groaned, rolling over once. A man stepped into view. Dr. Neville walked forward, and placed a hand on Ansem's shoulder. _

"_It's okay, Ansem. You're safe." He said softly. _

"_Where's Andrew?" Ansem slurred, his words thick. "I know you did something to him, like you did something to those other kids." _

"_Max, Ava, and Scott are perfectly fine." Dr. Neville soothed him. "We only did what was necessary." _

_Ansem rolled over, shoving himself up and staring angrily into Dr. Neville's eyes. "My brother is starving. He isn't eating. I'm not going to help you anymore unless you make sure that he stays alive. And healthy." _

"_I'll do my best, Ansem." Dr. Neville placated him, placing a hand on his shoulder. _

"_No!" Ansem knocked the hand away, and slid from the cot, standing tall after he regained his balance. "You will make sure that he stays healthy, because if you don't, if something happens to Andrew…" He loomed over Dr. Neville, determination and anger simmering in his eyes. _

"_I'll destroy your stupid, insignificant cause just like it has destroyed my brother." _

Sam gasped, sitting straight up. A man that had been crouched over him yelled and lurched back, staring at Sam in alarm. Titters echoed around the room as the teens watched the action unfold.

Sam sat up, heart pounding head smarting. What had he just witnessed? His therapist, talking to one of the kidnapped boys, is if _he _were their captor, and talking about the other kidnapping victims. His social worker, who apparently terrorized the other three of the kidnapped children. Ansem, talking about the "other kids". How was it all connected?

The man huffed to his feet wiping off his jacket. "Well, he appears to be fine." He looked miffed, and out of place. He started for the door, his back rigid.

"Wait!" Toby called out, near Sam. "Aren't you going to make sure that he isn't dying of a brain tumor or something?"

The man froze. He turned slowly. "Let me ask you something. Is he breathing?"

Toby looked confused. "Yes."

"Is his heart beating?"

Toby looked over at Sam, his eyes conflicted. "Uh, I think so."

"Then you put the pieces together," The man spat. "He's fine. And if he isn't, it's not like anyone will care."

He turned to leave, when Lily called out, "Coward!"

The man spun around quickly, looking for the perpetrator. A different girl shouted from the back of the long room. "He could have had a stroke, and you aren't even going to look at him?"

"So scared of a little boy that you'd rather let him die than even get close?"

"You're nothing better than a baby!"

"He never did anything to you, but you'd still let him die!"

The insults came left and right, and as soon as the man turned to threaten one of the children, another called out. Looking bewildered and overwhelmed, the man began to glance back at the door, slowly backing out.

"That's right, you run!"

"That's all you're good at!"

"Go on, run from a bunch of kids!"

"Proves what a chicken you are!"

Quickly, the man ran from the room, slamming the door behind him. In an instant, the children scrambled. Running to beds, collecting possessions, climbing under covers.

Nico and Toby stood up, turning to the nearest bunk. Toby began climbing up. Mariana stood, quickly lifting Sam to his feet. "Come over here." She ordered gently. She led him to a lower bunk on the right side of the room.

"Me and Lil are just across from here, okay?" She informed him. "Sam, when they come in, don't say anything, alright? Not about the other kids, what they said. In fact, stay completely silent unless they ask you a direct question, and then stick to yes and no."

"Mariana!" The harsh whisper came from across the room. Lily was already in the top bunk, partially under the covers. Everyone else was in bed and still.

Mariana pushed Sam onto the bed. "Just get in and don't come out unless you have to."

She rushed across the room as Sam pulled the covers over him. Mariana had just barely laid her head down with the covers up as the door burst open.

"So, I hear of an incident." Madam Vanector's voice boomed through the dormitory. She walked to the beginning of the rows of bunks. "Get up." Her voice was calm. Too calm.

Sam tensed to move, but no one else stirred. Sam could feel the fear in the controlled breaths, the forms of their bodies too still to be really sleeping.

"GET UP!" Madam Vanector roared, and all the children shot up in an instant. Sam moved quickly, lining up with the other children in front of the bunks. Madam Vanector marched up and down, staring down each child in turn. She stopped when she reached Sam's row. His heart thudded painfully. He didn't want to fear this woman. Didn't want to let her intimidation work on him. But it was.

However, instead of turning to Sam, she turned the other way, facing Lily and Mariana. "Was this your idea?" Madam Vanector asked Lily softly, almost sweetly.

Lily stared back at Vanector blankly, calmly keeping all emotion off her face. Mariana stared at the ground, her face slack but her eyes betraying her fear.

"Why don't you talk, you insulent little brat?" Madam Vanector hissed to Lily. Lily kept her silence, and Sam could see her bracing for a hit.

However, Madam Vanector reached out and grabbed Mariana's arm, who let out a shocked yelp. Lily lurched forward, stopping only when a guard aimed his firearm.

"Leave her alone." Lily said in a low, dangerous voice. "She didn't have anything to do with this."

"Oh, no." Madam Vanector disagreed in a rage-filled voice. "You need to learn that your actions have an impact on others. So, _Lily,_ did you cause this disturbance?"

Sam was close enough to see the slight shake of the head that Mariana gave Lily. It was an order from her to Lily. _Do not tell her anything. I can handle it. _

Lily squared her jaw, pain in her eyes. "No, I didn't."

"Pity." Madam Vanector said cooly. "Then, I guess, it had to be little _Mariana, _didn't it?"

"No!" Lily protested. "It wasn't her!"

"Then who was it? Who started this?" Madam Vanector hissed, shaking Mariana slightly. Mariana flinched away from Vanector, and caught Sam's eye. She smiled weakly, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Lily floundered for something to say, anything that could save her friend without disobeying her wishes or condemning someone else. She came up with nothing.

"I thought so." Madam Vanector said cruelly. "Some way to take care of a friend."

She turned to drag Mariana from the room, and Mariana turned at the last second, capturing Sam's gaze, and Sam saw the raw fear and desperation in her eyes. He saw a flash of Ava, sitting in a cage, afraid not for herself, but the safety and health of a boy she barely knew. He saw the abused children he had lived with at the Denellis. He even saw a little bit of Daniel, with his innocence, gentleness, and kindness. And something in him couldn't let this happen.

"Stop. It was me." It took Sam a moment to realize that the voice came from him. He had stepped forward, and terror now shone in Mariana's eyes. She shook her head, mouthing _no, no, no. _Sam stepped forward again. "Leave her alone. I started it."

Madam Vanector looked him over, recognition flaring in her eyes. "The impudent one from the hall…" She released Mariana, who stumbled away to shy against the wall, shuddering and crying silently.

"Teach him a lesson." Madam Vanector ordered, and the guards walked forward. She looked around the room at the wide eyes. "Hopefully you will _all _learn a lesson."

With that she stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her. Sam barely had time to register that the soldiers were moving in before a fist slammed into his gut. Sam doubled over, retching. This was a hundred times worse than the beating that Mitchell and his gang had given him. These were trained torturers, who knew just where to hit to make the pain that much worse.

Someone struck the backs of his knees, and he collapsed onto the ground. Sam felt feet and fists landing blows all over his body. Someone swung a boot into his stomach, and Sam felt the air leave his lungs with a _whoosh._ One of them dropped a foot onto his outstretched wrist, and Sam screamed at the pain. A soldier cracked a fist across his face, and his head smacked the concrete.

Suddenly, things seemed to go distant. He felt the blows landing on his body, but they had less impact than before. The lights above him seemed dazzling, and he couldn't understand when they had gotten so beautiful. He wished the violent forms above him would leave, though. He couldn't see the light as well with them there.

Finally, the blows stopped. The forms above him halted their assault, and they moved away. Sam heard the door slam, and a loud sobbing broke out. Sam felt someone kneel next to him, and wet tears dripped onto his face.

"You stupid, stupid boy." Mariana whispered tearfully. "Why? Why would you do that?"

"Could'n le' you...ha' to p'tect D'niel…" Sam slurred, confused.

"Someone get him a blanket." Lily ordered. When no one moved at first, she spun angrily. "Now!"

Quickly, someone in one of the top bunks handed down a blanket. Someone handed down another, and then another child offered his pillow. A young girl gave up her extra jumpsuit to try to stifle the nosebleed, and a boy gave his to wrap up Sam's wrist.

"Why…help?" Sam asked distantly. "I thou'...didn' truss…"

"We might not always be on each other's best side." The boy named James who had spoken against Lily before knelt by Sam's head. He slid a hand under Sam's head and lifted gently, to tip his own water bottle's contents into Sam's mouth. Sam swallowed gratefully, closing his eyes tiredly. James's parting words echoed in his head. 

"But against them, we are always united."

**LINE BREAK **

**I know you won't want to read a ton after all of that, so I'll try to keep it short.**

**Sorry about the long wait for an update. I didn't drop the story or lose interest, but other stories called me, and schoolwork got in the way. **

**Thank you so much if you are still invested and reading. My guess is another two, maybe three chapters before the end...so please hang in there! **

**That's all. I did promise to keep it short. ; )**

**Cheers!**


	16. Discovery

**Chapter 16 - Discovery**

* * *

The silence around the breakfast table was deafening. Dean looked up, saw his parents focusing solely on their food. Finally, he shoved back his bowl.

"Can we please talk about this?" Dean said loudly. His father sighed, looking up with defeated eyes.

"Dean, there isn't anything to discuss. He's a ward of the camp now. We don't get visitation rights, nothing. They won't even tell me which one he's been sent to." John said sadly.

"Can't you find out? Sam didn't mean to hurt Mitchell." Dean insisted. "That -" He checked himself. "-_jerk _was about to hurt me, maybe Sam, too. He was just defending us."

"It doesn't matter, sweetie." Mary said gently, extending her hand to cover Dean's. "They just see a violent boy who could hurt more people with powers he can't control."

"But that's not who Sam is!" Dean shouted, pushing to his feet. "He's a kid who loves goldfish crackers, dogs, and has never played catch before in his life. He's a kid who has nightmares about God-knows-what, and is a whiz at math and anything related to school." Dean felt a lump grow in his throat. "He's just a kid, Mom. And they locked him away like he's some kind of monster."

Tears shone in Mary's eyes. "Baby, we can't help him. There's nothing we can do. If your father tries to interfere, he could lose his hunting license."

Dean closed his eyes, and sat back down. He stared at the bowl in front of him, his face closed off.

John looked back to Mary. "I think I've hit a rut with these psychic kids." He admitted. "The ones that disappeared. I can't find a connection. They came from different parts of the state, different abilities, different kinds of Care homes. I even checked out the families, thinking that maybe this was some kind of revenge tactic, but came up empty. I just don't know where to look next."

Dean sat up straighter, his brow furrowed. "Have you checked for any connections with the system? Maybe they came from the same agency or something? Or their social worker?"

John nodded, thinking carefully. "Maybe…" He said cautiously. "It couldn't hurt to check out." John stood, pulling on his jacket, when he stopped and looked at Dean. "Would you want to come with me?"

Dean started. "Dad, I have school."

"You'd rather go to school?"

Dean considered the offer carefully, almost unbelieving, and then jumped up when he determined the proposal to be legit. John cracked a smile, and went out the car, waiting for Dean to join him.

"I know that losing Sam was hard." John consoled Dean when he entered the car. "But you should know that saving these kids won't save Sam. I just want to make sure that you know that Sam most likely isn't involved with this."

Dean didn't answer, only looked out the window. _Maybe. _He thought. _But then, why do I feel like he is?_

* * *

"I think he's waking up." A soft voice spoke from the darkness. Sam tried to open his eyes, squinting when the light was too bright. He could see figures leaning over him, and he tried to sit up, only to suck in a sharp breath at the pain.

"Hang on, squirt." Sam heard Lily's voice approaching. "A beating like that'll take some time to heal from."

"'M good." Sam reassured her, trying to push himself up with his arms. He succeeded, and panted slightly for a minute, looking weakly down at the bare blanket covering his legs.

Lily crouched by his side, looking up at him in concern. "What you did was stupid." She said firmly. Sam huffed a laugh, glancing over at her.

"Yeah, I know that." He said tightly. "I guess I just thought-"

Lily pushed his leg. "I wasn't done." She snapped sharply. "It was stupid, definitely." She paused. "But it was also brave. Like, crazy brave." A smile flashed across her face. "But definitely stupid."

"It's been my experience that those two go hand in hand, sometimes." Sam breathed.

"With you? All the time."

Marianna approached on his other side. "Thank you, Sam. You didn't have to...Probably shouldn't have, with the trouble you've already gotten in…"

Sam interjected, looking back at Lily. "You could have done the same thing." He said, watching her carefully. "You would have, I saw it in your face. But you didn't. Why?"

Lily stood up, facing the door. "I'm on my last strike."

"Last strike?" Sam echoed, a question in his voice.

Lily turned to him, her eyes sad, and almost desperate. "Yeah. Last strike. They don't operate with an official system here, but that seems to be the general idea. Screw up four or five times…" She swallowed. "You get the needle."

"The needle…?"

James, sitting on the end of the bottom bunk, spoke up. "You don't honestly think they keep us here 'till we're eighteen, do you? You don't really believe the crap they feed the media about 'reforming' us, and 're-educating' us?"

Sam frowned, and shook his head. "I never believed they'd let us go once we're eighteen, but I just...figured we went somewhere else."

James snorted. "Sure. Death row, that's where we go."

Sam felt his blood run cold. "They...kill you?"

James shook his head sarcastically. "Oh, no no no. Not kill. They _eliminate _us. They hush it up around the media, 'cause they wouldn't want people thinking that they're hurting kids."

"How do they...I mean, is it…?" Sam struggled to voice his question, unable to find a moderate way to phrase it. All of his options sounded blunt and ghastly.

"We don't know." Nico spoke up from the floor. "One day, they take you away...and you never come back."

Sam shuddered, and he felt sick to his stomach. Fear curled in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to die. Not after he'd experienced the first good home that he'd found in years...no matter how it had ended.

Sam shoved thoughts of the Winchesters aside. He couldn't think about them. Not right now, when he needed to be strong. He looked at the kids surrounding him.

"So, what exactly happens here? I know that it's, like, military and stuff, but no one really seems to know what...goes on."

Lily sighed. "I don't think people here do, either. They just don't know what to do with us. They can't let us outside, don't have the manpower to guard us inside all the time, won't trust us to work. It's just waiting and watching."

"For what?"

Lily smiled, her eyes glinting. "A way out."

* * *

"The plan is a go."

Ansem took a deep breath in. This was what they had been waiting for, for days. Finally, things were starting to move along.

The armored vehicle they were driving in jolted, and Ansem was nearly tossed from his seat on the hard metal bench that ran along the length of the internal cell. He shifted the chains that were fastened and draped over his hands and ankles, and tried to regain his balance.

Jake sat across from him, a maniacal smile on his face. His eyes were crazed with adrenaline, and Ansem could practically see the excitement pouring off of him in waves.

"Might want to calm down before we get there." Ansem warned him gruffly. "Could tip them off that we're up to something if you're all happy to get there."

The intercom crackled. "I'd take that advice," Dr. Neville agreed in an even tone. "Now, we, ah, _acquired _this vehicle rather inconspicuously, but it would be better to not show up in it. Before we reach the compound, a guard from the camp will meet us, and load you into an official convoy of Camp Roosevelt."

"What's the point of getting this thing if we aren't even going to use it?" Ansem grumbled.

A new voice came over the system. "The point is that we know what we are doing, and you would do better to _listen, _rather than ask so many _blasted questions!_" Mr. Pearson snapped.

Ansem rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to answer.

"Now, you know the plan once you get into the camp." Dr. Neville said, taking control of the system again. "We will get you in, but you are in charge of finding a way out. Just remember, your top priority is Target One. Target Two is a benefit, but not necessary. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Jake piped up, his eyes flashing with excitement.

"I hope you're ready, boys." Dr. Neville said. "Everything begins now."

* * *

John leaned over the counter, flashing his Hunter's badge to the secretary. Dean looked around the office, walking over to a wall covered with black and white photos of young boys and girls. Smiles were plastered on their faces, but their eyes were sad, angry, and hopeless. One in particular caught his eye, and Dean looked closer, his eyes widening when he recognized the mop of hair and hazel eyes.

"We're investigating the recent disappearances of some psychics in the area." John said to the woman. "Do you have a list of your charges and their social workers?"

The woman glanced at his badge, smiling up at John. "Sure we do, hon. What can I do for you?"

"Could you please check if these children were in your system?" John handed her a small list, which she took with another bright grin, and turned to her computer. Dean walked over to his father, pulling him to the side.

"Dad, you need to take a look at this," He said in a low voice. Dean walked a few steps, pointing to a picture on the wall. John took a look, and his breath caught.

"It's Sam," Dean murmured. "God, he looks so young."

John sighed, gazing at the picture mournfully. "Try to focus, Dean." He said softly. "We need to solve this case." He started to turn away, but Dean caught his arm.

"Wait, Dad," Dean pointed to a picture higher on the wall. "Isn't that one of the missing kids?"

John looked carefully, and nodded. "Max Miller." Scanning the wall, he stopped in front of another picture of a abductee. "Ava Wilson,"

Dean pointed. "Scott Carey,"

John looked in disbelief at the wall. "They're all here." He turned back to the woman. "Who are the social workers of the kids on the list?"

"Wait, are these the missing children that have been in the news?" The woman paused, looking up at John quizzically.

"Yes, they are," John answered shortly. "Now, please-"

"Oh, the story has been a hot topic all around here." The woman leaned in conspiratorially. "They all say that his poor career is over, what with all of his charges disappearing, and the most recent being sent to a Camp for nearly killing a boy. I say that really isn't his fault, after all most of those children are troubled and eventually end up-"

"Wait," Dean interrupted. "Did you say this man's charge was sent to a camp?"

"Yes I did," The woman nodded her head. "It wasn't really a surprise, honestly. That poor child had been moved around from home to home since he came to us. I always had my suspicions about that child; he just seemed unstable. Especially after his little brother was shot. That just seemed to unhinge the poor thing."

Dean looked at his father, his eyes wide. John raised a hand slightly, urging him not to jump to conclusions.

"Who was this boy?" John asked in a low voice.

"Well, let me think…" The woman put a hand to her forehead. "I believe it was a boy named Sam. No last name; his parents disowned him after he came to our custody."

"Ma'am," Dean jumped in again. "This man who's responsible for all these kids...is his name Pearson?"

"Peter Pearson," The woman affirmed. "That's right." She huffed. "You know, you would hope these things would turn out better, seeing as Peter specifically asked for these children himself."

"What?" John turned back to the woman sharply. "Does Mr. Pearson have any other charges? Other than these children?"

"Well, now, I don't believe so," The woman said thoughtfully. "And, if you want to know something else, he hasn't taken on any new cases, either. People say that his recent failures have just _ruined_ his credibility."

"Thank you," John said gruffly, and rushed from the building, Dean following behind. John jumped into the Impala, quickly putting it in reverse. Dean hurried in, looking at this father.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

John backed out of the parking space, and drove speedily from the lot. "If Pearson isn't directly responsible for this, he's definitely involved." He reasoned. "And either way, we have to stop them before they get to Sam."

"Why?" Dean asked forcefully. "Dad, what's going on?"

John jolted the car to a stop, closing his eyes for a moment. When he turned to his son, his eyes were troubled. "Whoever's in charge of these kidnappings, they aren't fooling around. They're serious about doing this, and getting rid of anyone who stands in the way of their goal."

"But what's their goal? What are they trying to do?"

John stared at his son, dread in his eyes. "They're trying to create a Devil's Eight."

* * *

Sam sat on his bed, his stomach growling hungrily.

"Will you shut up?" Lily snapped from above him.

"I can't stop myself from being hungry!" Sam shot back. "Maybe you should stop talking back so much."

Lily hopped down. "Hey, it's not my fault that Vanector started to go after Toby. I was defending him."

"Yeah, and she knows that." Sam said tiredly. "She knows that you would do almost anything to protect your friends. And she uses that against you."

"Well, you didn't have to join in!" Lily bit, crossing her arms. "Then you could be in the cafeteria with everyone else, enjoying the crap that passes for food!"

"Please," Sam spat. "You said you're on your last strike. I was trying to protect _you._"

"Well, great job! Now _neither _of us gets food!"

Suddenly, the doors opened. Sam and Lily turned, falling silent. Despite the fight that had just occurred, Sam stood, standing by Lily protectively. It was strange. He had only known her for a day, and yet he felt nearly as close to her as he did to Dean and the Winchesters.

Vanector stepped pompously into the room, dragging two boys draped in chains behind her. She stared down Sam and Lily, smirking when they stayed silent. She nodded her head into the room, and the soldiers pulled the two kids into the room.

"Put up a bit of a fuss on the way in," Vanector informed Sam and Lily lightly. "I just wanted to show them a glimpse of what happens to those around here who don't conform."

Sam didn't respond, but maintained a steady eye contact. He wasn't about to let her know that he was, indeed, afraid of her. She didn't deserve that satisfaction.

The soldiers unlocked the chains around the boys ankles and wrists, before stepping out of the room. Vanector shot a superior smirk at the children, before slamming the door shut as she left.

Lily looked over the new arrivals suspiciously. She shot a look to Sam, and he nodded, glancing at their tags, which were both orange.

"My name is Lily," She introduced herself, stepping forward. She nodded behind her. "This is Sam."

Sam's breath caught when he recognized both of the boys. He had seen them, before, in his visions. He noticed the dark skinned boy's eyes widen in amazement, and he reached forward and gripped the other boys arm, as though trying to convey some sort of message.

"I'm Ansem." The first boy said.

The other stepped forward slightly. "Jake."

Lily smiled wryly, gesturing around her. "Welcome to Roosevelt."

* * *

**Well...There you go! : )**

**So sorry it's taken me this long to update. I swear I'm not dropping the story, I just have so many ideas spinning around in my head that it's hard to focus my attention on one thing. **

**If you were confused by the Devil's Eight thing, don't worry! It will be explained. **

**If you have any questions, don't hesitate to PM me and ask. I won't spoil anything, but I'll be happy to clear things up.**

**Leave a review and let me know how I'm doing. I write these stories because I love to write and I'm obsessed with Supernatural, but it helps to know that other people enjoy my stories as well. Remember, I don't mind constructive criticism, either. I just want to become a better writer. : )**

**Cheers!**


	17. Breakout

**Before we start, I just want to point something out. I believe that the longest story I've ever written (so far) on Fanfiction has been 17 chapters long, and it looks like this story is going to exceed that. So, I want to give a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story. Every time I saw that someone liked the story, it helped me open up a new document and write the next installment. **

**Also, I hope that everyone knows that I don't measure my stories by the amount of reviews I get. I write because I love the TV shows and books these stories are based off of, I love fanfiction itself, and especially all the people that I have met on this site. A personal goal of mine has been to write a story that gets a hundred views, and this is the closest I have ever gotten to that. So, I want to that everyone that has taken the time to even just send in a smiley face. : ) It means a ton, and every single one is appreciated. **

**I love all of you, and I'm so grateful that you guys have enjoyed the story. You have no idea how much it warms my heart every time I open my email and see a new message from one of you!**

**Chapter 17 - Breakout**

* * *

Sam stared at the new boys, sitting across from the table from him, eating their lunch. They seemed normal, if a little withdrawn. Well, Ansem was withdrawn. Jake seemed to be almost enthusiastic about being here. Something that Sam was deeply suspicious about.

Lily sat next to Sam, her gloves, as always, covering her hands. She had warmed up to the two boys quickly, claiming them as part of her group, just as she had claimed Sam.

"So, what do you do here?" Jake asked between huge gulps of food.

Nico looked at him warily. He caught eyes with Sam for a moment, and Sam could tell that he was thinking the same thing Sam was. Jake was too...bright to be in here. He was acting like he just won the lottery, rather than just had his freedom taken away from him.

"Plot our eventual escape," Lily said with one raised eyebrow.

Jake chuckled, and nudged Ansem's arm conspiratorially. Ansem shifted irritatedly away from the touch, but Jake didn't seem to care. "We could get in on that, right, Ansem?" Jake laughed, as though sharing some private joke.

"Knock it off," Ansem muttered, shrugging off his touch.

"So, what did you do to get in here?" Lily asked, with a glance to their tags.

"Oh, you know," Jake said, shrugging carelessly. "Beat up some people, raised some hell."

Lily sat back, looking amused. "Yeah? And what about you, shortstop?" She asked, turning to Ansem.

He stilled, looking down at his barely touched food. "I don't want to talk about it." He said in a quiet voice.

"No, really, it's fine." Toby piped up, oblivious as ever. "We've all done things that we regret. Like, Sam almost killed someone!"

"Thanks, Toby." Sam deadpanned. Toby smiled back, unaffected by his sarcasm.

"This wasn't like that." Ansem continued. "It's complicated."

"Sure," Lily broke in. "All of our stories are. But you can't just keep it to yourself. Here, we trust each other. Confide in one another."

The buzzer loudly rang through the dining hall, and the kids stood up, waiting to file out into the hall. As Sam's table followed the other children out the door, Sam noticed the guards, usually lenient and benign with the children's behavior, now gripping their batons tightly, and tensely shoving the children into orderly lines, hissing threats under their breath.

He turned to Lily. "What's going on?"

She frowned, noticing the commotion. Lily turned her head to the side, leaning towards Mariana. "What day is it?"

Mariana thought for a moment, and then she blanched, going white. "It's the sixth."

Lily gritted her teeth, muttering a curse word. "Not a good day," She said in answer to Sam's question. "Keep your head down and don't make eye contact."

"What?" Sam exclaimed in a whisper. "Why? What's going on?"

Lily shushed him without another word, and ducked her head as she slipped into the line of kids, Mariana close behind her. Sam fell in behind Mariana, and the rest of their group walked behind him.

As Sam exited the dining room, he noticed how slow the line was moving. There was no noise from the children, only a tense silence, but Sam could still hear muttering, more than one person arguing in soft tones about something.

_Not arguing. _Sam realized with a chill. _Bartering. _

Risking a glance sideways, he saw a line of adults standing, staring at the children parading in front of them. They seemed to be of all varying types, from clean-cut men in business suits and women in elegant dresses, to bearded men in overalls and boots. They all wore the badge, which featured a gun and silver knife crossed over a pair of cold black eyes. It was the universal symbol of the Hunters. They all seemed to be focused on the same thing. The children.

As Sam followed the line, which was veering toward the line of Hunters, some of their murmurs became more clear. Worse, he noticed a beefy woman standing near the group, and his heart sank. Vanector.

"What Blues do you have in this facility?" A woman with a bluetooth briskly asked Vanector.

"At this point, we have 54 residential Blues housed here full time." Vanector answered, sounding sickeningly proud. "Another 15 visit from time to time for odd jobs."

"Mmm," The woman looked over the children again. "Are any of them for sale?"

Sam felt a jolt in his stomach, and suddenly he felt as if he were going to be sick. _For sale? _

"Yes," Vanector replied. "However, it would be for a very high price. They are, for the most part, well behaved and submissive. Far more so than the other children here."

The woman glanced down at a list that she held in her hand. "Could I see the one I inquired about earlier?"

"Of course," Vanector agreed smoothly, and scanned over the slowly moving line of children. She stepped forward toward Sam, and he felt his heart seize in fear and anger. He would not let her sell him. He would rather _die. _

Mariana squealed suddenly in front of him, and he realized that Vanector had grabbed _her _arm instead of his. He felt a surge of protectiveness, but barely held himself back. He did, however, slow his pace even more, as to not leave her behind. He noticed that Lily did the same in front of him.

Vanector dragged Mariana over to the woman. Mariana kept her eyes on the floor, and didn't look up as the woman silently appraised her.

"She seems to be in very good condition. Remind me, what is her psychic gift?"

"Telepathy," Vanector said with a grin. "We brought her here to help weed out any unruly inmates, but she hasn't been much use of late."

"Perhaps she could be of more use to me, then." The woman proposed.

Sam's head shot up, unable to control his disgust at the idea. He caught Vanector's eye for a moment, and he glared hatefully, wanting her to pay for every second of the fear and humiliation that she was putting these kids through, and had been for years.

An odd, cold light came into her eye, and Sam wanted to duck his head and hide again. Vanector stepped forward, this time latching her iron grip onto his arm. She dragged him forward, her hand crushing his arm all the way.

"This one is definitely for sale," She announced to the assorted Hunters, pushing him forward. "He may be insolent, but he has a rather unusual gift." She paused for dramatic affect, allowing the audience to draw nearer in curiosity. "He can see the future."

The Hunters turned to one another, discussing in low voices. Their sharp eyes were fixed on him, greedily, hungrily, and Sam felt as though he was about to be sick.

"The beginning offer is no less than twenty thousand." Vanector began, stepping closer to the group. "You may consult the website to begin bidding."

She turned back to the woman with the bluetooth. "Well, is this matter settled?"

"I believe I would like to make a deal," The woman agreed.

"Then please head to the front office, and one of my team will be able to settle a price with you," Vanector said with a smile. "In the meantime, we'll keep her safe for you."

She grabbed both Sam and Mariana, dragging them back to the line. She shoved them into place, and ushered the line along, herding everyone quickly to their rooms.

Sam stumbled into the room after everyone else, and the door was slammed shut behind him. Looking around the room, he saw people sitting in little huddles, some looking guiltily relieved, and others terrified and crying.

"Sam!" Lily hissed at him, and he hurried to his group.

"What just happened?!" Sam asked in bewilderment, his voice panicked.

"You just got sold, that's what happened," Mariana said in a small voice, her eyes fixed on the floor. Sam could see tears in her eyes. "And so did I."

"Sold?"

"Sold! That means that some Hunter _owns _you, like you're a new weapon in his arsenal! It means that, in the record, you go down as dead! It means that you get dragged away, to do who-knows-what who-knows-where!" Mariana shouted, suddenly sounding angry. She collapsed against Lily, sobbing and clutching her desperately. Lily hugged her tightly, looking just as vengeful.

"It happens on the sixth of every month." Nico put in.

"What?" Jake spoke, his eyes wide and scared. "They can't do that! Isn't that illegal?"

"Yeah, it is," Toby said sadly. "But nobody ever checks on places like this. They just shove us in here and forget we exist."

"No!" Sam exclaimed. "There has to be something we can do!"

"There isn't," Lily spat bitterly. "You can try hiding, or fighting, or bribing, or whatever the _crap _you will think will work when nothing has worked before. Doesn't matter what you do. You still end up in the back of some Hunter's truck, driving away to a life of slavery."

Mariana moaned, burying her face in Lily's jumpsuit, and Lily turned her attention away from Sam, to murmur quietly to her friend. The rest of the group leaned in, softly uttering comforting words.

Sam looked around the group desperately, and Ansem caught his eye. He nodded to the side, and stood up, walking over to the side of the room. Sam followed, with a quick glance back to the group.

"We - Jake and I - We have a way to get out," Ansem muttered as soon as Sam stopped. "But we need to go tonight."

"What? You have a way out?" Sam questioned. He wasn't sure he trusted Ansem or Jake. After all, last he saw, they were in the clutches of two evil captors, who seemed to be trying to coerce them into doing something they wanted done. Now, they magically show up in this Camp with a way out?

"Yes," Ansem said. "We can leave. You don't have to be sold."

Sam felt a rush of relief. The weight lifted off his shoulders, and he almost laughed. "Okay. How do we get out?"

"After lights out, the guards rotate every half hour. Two hours into the schedule, there's a thirty second gap where no one is patrolling this hallway. I stole the key from one of the guards in the cafeteria, and we can slip out of this room, and make it to the air duct outside. Once we're there, Jake uses his strength to pull off the cover, and wedge it back into place once we're inside. The air duct leads to one of the control rooms, where there should be a guard. But he'll be asleep, like he always is. I'll get him to unlock the front gate, and lock it again once we're out. Then, we just have to make it to the highway. Some one can pick us up there."

Sam stared with an open mouth. "Thought about this much?" He questioned in shock.

Ansem shrugged nonchalantly. "A little, yes."

"And…" Sam hesitated. "Who are the people who will pick us up? Can they be trusted?"

"Yes," Ansem said absolutely.

Sam thought for a moment. He hadn't had a vision about what had gone down in days. For all he knew, these new people could actually be trusted. Either way, he needed their help. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Okay…" Sam considered. "I think it could work. But, do you think the duct will hold the weight of all those kids?"

Ansem stared back blankly. "What kids?" He asked after a moment.

Sam looked back at the room of children, all wearing the same jumpsuits and sad faces. "All those kids." He responded, pointing back at them.

"Sam," Ansem stared, looking at him like he was talking to a two year old. "We aren't breaking everyone out. Just you, me, Jake, and Lily."

"What?" Sam exclaimed. "What do you mean, not everyone?"

"We can't orchestrate a mass breakout, Sam!" Ansem hissed. "We'll never pull that off. It'll be hard enough just getting us out of here!"

"What, so we just leave them here? To be sold and slaughtered like cattle?"

"Yes," Ansem said coldly. "We leave them. So that we can get out, and tell someone what's going on here."

"What if it was your brother?" Sam questioned. "Would you leave him behind?"

Ansem froze, his eyes tightened. "How do you know about Andrew?"

"I have visions," Sam said, maintaining firm eye contact. "Some very interesting ones."

"Yeah? Did your visions tell you that if you didn't get out of here, you'll be sold? Sold to some hotshot Hunter who'll use you like a new knife."

"At least I'll know I didn't leave them behind!" Sam shouted in a whisper. "At least I won't have to live with the guilt of getting to be free while they rot in here!"

"Sam, once we get out, there are people who can help them," Ansem insisted. "But we can't help anybody if we stay in here!"

"What about Mariana?" Sam questioned. "Even if we get out, by the time we get help and they come, she'll be gone. Untraceable. As good as dead."

"There are casualties in every war," Ansem said, his expression unreadable. "It's sad, but that's the way it is."

"No." Sam refused. "I don't believe that. There has to be another way."

"There isn't, Sam!" Ansem said unrelentingly. "Just accept it."

Sam paused. "Ansem, would the air duct hold all of our weight?"

"Are you talking just the preteens or every kid in this building?" Ansem asked snarkily. "Yeah, either way, it's a no."

"Well, then." Sam decided. "We'll just have to come up with another plan. Cause tonight is the last time that Vanector is going to do that to us, or lock us in our rooms, or take away our meals, or beat us with her puppets. We are getting out _tonight_, and we are doing it _together_."

Sam pulled Ansem back to his smaller group, and ushered them to the center of the room. He called over the surrounding groups, until the entire population of the dorm was in one large huddle. Everything was silent except for their quiet murmurs.

"So, this is the plan…"

* * *

Mariana stood with her hands clasped together, fingers shaking. Her heart pounded with the weight of what she was about to do.

"Mariana?" Madam Vanector leaned into the doorway, catching sight of the young girl waiting in her office. "Can I help you?"

Mariana took a deep breath. When she spoke, her voice shook. "Ma'am, please reconsider. I-I don't want to be-to be s-sold. Please. I'll...I'll do anything."

Madam Vanector beckoned her into her private office, and shut the door behind her. "Really?" She asked. "Anything?"

Mariana hung her head. _It's okay. _She told herself. _Just say it. _"Ma'am, I'm… I'll spy on the other inmates. I just don't want to be sold."

"Well, this is interesting." Madam Vanector laughed. "Mariana, are you willing to sacrifice your friends, all of the children here, just so you don't have to risk yourself?"

"Yes," Mariana whispered, staring at the floor shamefully. "I just can't…"

"Mmm…" Madam Vanector circled Mariana. "Tell you what, dear. If you can find me something juicy, some traitor or scheme, then I will consider you useful enough to keep around."

Mariana raised her head, her heartbeat in her throat. She opened her mouth, and she barely managed to choke out the words. "I already have."

Madam Vanector froze. "What?"

"Something's going to happen tonight." Mariana admitted, her voice tearful. "Someone's going to try to break out."

* * *

All the children in Roosevelt were assembled in the meeting hall, standing in rows. Guards stood near all the doors, guns hefted. Vanector stood in front of them, on a podium. Mariana snuck into the crowd from where she had been waiting with Vanector, near the wall.

"A little birdie has informed me of a certain plan that was designed to be fulfilled tonight," Vanector's voice boomed, echoing around the hall.

Mariana finally made her way to where Sam and Lily were standing. She made eye contact, and nodded.

"Did you tell her?" Sam murmured.

Mariana met his eyes, and nodded. She saw a slight smile on his lips, and he returned her nod. Sam leaned to the side, and tapped the hand of the boy next to him. Without reacting, the boy tapped the next kid in line, and a ripple of little movements was spread.

Sam felt a jolt of excitement. It was happening. It was really happening.

"_We need to get a way for everyone to attack the guards at once. There's too many of us to handle if we move as a group." Lily said. _

"_What about some kind of signal?" Toby asked. _

"_Sure, but how do we let everyone know about it?" Sam asked. "It's not like they just let us talk with other dorms." _

"_At dinner." Lily decided. She looked up at the group of fifty some kids surrounding them. "Talk to everyone you can. Find any excuse to talk to the older kids. Even the younger kids. Let them know what's going to happen." _

"_A signal's going to be useless if we're stuck in our dorms," Nico pointed out. "So how do we get them to let us out in the open?" _

_Silence filled the area for a moment. _

"_Remember that one time that a guard reported that someone was planning a mutiny?" James put in suddenly. "They made everyone go to the hall and watch as they were punished." _

"_That would work." Lily said with a satisfied smile. "But how do we let them know about a fake mutiny? We could talk about as one of the gaurds walk by…" _

"_Too many variables." Ansem shot down quickly. "What if we aren't loud enough? Or the guard doesn't believe us? Or just doesn't care? No, we need some foolproof way to alert Vanector herself." _

_Sam looked around at the faces. He saw Mariana, and a lightbulb went off. "What about Mariana? She's supposed to be an informant anyway? What if she went to Vanector, so desperate about not getting sold tomorrow that she would expose a plot that she overheard one of us thinking about?" _

_Mariana jolted, looking started. "Me?" _

"_Yes." Ansem nodded. "That would work." He looked at Mariana. "But don't mention any names. If they question any of us before, it could be bad. Just say that you heard someone thinking about a mutiny, but you don't know who or when. That way she'll call an assembly right away, to scare whoever it is into dropping the idea." _

_Mariana took a deep breath, putting on a determined look. "Okay." She agreed. "I can do it." _

"_And Mariana." Sam added. "It has to look real." _

"This insolence cannot be tolerated!" Vanector was shouting. Sam lifted his head slightly, seeing the little shifts as more people were tapped by the person next to them.

"If anyone has information on this planned attack, they should come to me directly," Vanector continued. "Remember, failure to provide any information you have is the same thing as committing the attack yourself. And you will punished just as severely."

Sam felt his heart pounding as he looked up at the clock on the wall. The minute hand was resting on the 19th line, marking 7:19. Sam took a deep breath, shoving down the fear, the impulsive urge to act, and focused on the podium.

Taking another deep breath, he looked back up at the clock, just as the minute hand ticked to the 20th line. Sam turned to the front, his heart pounding in his ears, as a siren split the meeting hall.

"_We need some kind of signal to fight back." Sam said. "A certain time." _

"_When they call the meeting, I can slip away." Ansem said. "Jake and I will take the path through the air ducts. There's a certain turn that will take us to the control room. I can set off the alarm that will tell you when to go." _

"_An alarm? Won't that tell them that we're escaping?" Toby pointed out. _

_Ansem smiled. "It doesn't matter. They won't be able to stop us." _

Vanector's eyes flared for a second as she recognized the sound. The siren was reserved for when there was an attempted breakout. When she looked upon the mass of children in front of her, however, it was clear that the majority of the children were in here, not escaping. She raised her hands to silence the shouting children, to get control of those brats, when the ground rushed up underneath her, sending her flying backwards, head over heels.

Sam stood directly in front of where the podium used to be, hand raised and adrenaline rushing. Vanector lay in a heap across the room, and Sam was surprised that he didn't feel pity. She wasn't dead. He was sure of that. And she deserved any pain she got.

He turned to the crowd of children behind him. Guards were standing shell shocked, unsure of what to shoot or who was in charge.

"Run!" Sam shouted. "Fight back! We're getting out of here!"

In one giant roar, the children surged towards the doors, the guards raised their guns, but the weapons were torn from their fingers my telekinetics, they dove to the side to avoid the fire manipulators powers, and covered their heads to save themselves from the hundreds of trampling feet.

As the first children shoved through the doors, some of the younger children stumbled. Sam saw a little girl trip and sprawl over the floor, unable to get back up amongst all the chaos. He swooped down, grabbing her arm and yanking her back to her feet. He hung back, making sure that all the kids were out, and as they ran past the control room, Ansem and Jake hurried out.

"Where's Lily?" Ansem shouted as he ran beside Sam, but Sam was too out of breath to answer.

"We opened the gate!" Jake told him as the ran after the crowd. "We should be able to get out!"

As Sam burst through the front doors, following the other children, he caught sight of the front gates. Standing in a firm line across the open space, unable to be opened or closed except from the control room, was guards, guns pointed absolutely at the children hurtling toward them.

"No…" Sam said, and sped up, sprinting toward the kids. "Stop!" He shouted, but they didn't listen.

_How can they not see them? _He wondered in disbelief. _They have to see the guns, the soldiers!_

But then, he realized that the kids did see the soldiers. The problem was, they just didn't care. After years of being locked up, beaten, starved, and mistreated, the children were finally fighting back. And they weren't going to stop now.

_I'm going to get all of them killed. _Sam realized with dread. He strained to run faster, reaching the back of the crowd and quickly weaving through it. Ansem and Jake were right at his side.

"How do we take down the guards?" Sam asked Ansem as they ran, having to shout to be heard over the noise.

"I don't know if we can!" Ansem shouted back.

"Great! Thanks!"

Sam looked to the front, and his heart nearly stopped. Lily, Nico, Toby, and Mariana sprinted at the front, leading the kids toward the open gates. Sam poured on the speed, frantically trying to reach his friends. At the gate, he saw the guards lean down and take aim, pointing the guns directly the four children running in front.

Sam charged behind them, knowing he wasn't going to be close enough. Not close enough to attack the guards, or help his friends, or blow down the fence altogether.

He heard the shot ring out, and saw Mariana shove Lily out of the way. She jerked to the side, and Lily and Nico grabbed her arms to keep her from falling. Sam yelled in rage, and thrust his hands out, feeling the power rush through them.

The guards flew to the side, smashing into the ground in heaps, groaning and still groping for their guns. As the children poured through the gates, into freedom, Sam halted, shouting to anyone that would listen.

"Don't stop!" He cried. "Keep going!"

Jake and Ansem came to a stop with him, when the last of the kids were finally disappearing into the woods, the three ran straight into the thick forest, to where they last saw their friends sprinting.

Sam heard Lily shouting. "Sam? Ansem! Jake! Where are you?"

"Hey!" He shouted angrily as they found them in a small clearing, huddled near a tree. Lily stood a few feet away, hands cupped to her mouth. "Shut up, will you? We aren't out of the woods yet."

"Literally," Ansem breathed sarcastically.

Sam felt Lily slam into him, and for a moment, he thought she was attacking him. But then he felt her arms wrap tightly around him, almost crushing his ribs.

"Oh my God, I thought you were dead!" She whispered.

"Tell me about it," Sam sympathized. He looked to Mariana, who was surrounded by Nico and Toby. "Mariana, are you okay?"

"Yeah." She agreed, her face tight. "I'm fine. We can keep going."

"Where were you hi-"

"I said I'm fine," Mariana snapped. She took a breath. "It's not safe here, and I know that, okay? Let's just keep moving."

Sam fixed her in a long look, but finally nodded. "Okay, let's keep going."

As they walked, Ansem came up beside Sam. "Sam, I have a way to get you and Lily out of here." He said. "But just you, me, Lily, and Jake." He looked back at the other three. "They'll have to manage on their own."

"No," Sam refused indignantly. "We aren't leaving them out here on their own. Let's bring them with us."

"No." Ansem disagreed. "They can't come."

"Why?" Sam questioned. "Because I'm not leaving them behind. If they can't go, I can't go."

Ansem huffed, and sped up to walk next to Jake. Sam fell back slightly, wrapped in his own thoughts.

They were out now, and he had saved himself, Mariana, and countless others from having to go with some rich Hunter, but now what? Up until now, he had been thinking only of escape. Where were they going to sleep? Eat? God, how were they going to survive with the entire country looking for the fugitive psychics who broke out of a camp?

Suddenly, Sam felt Ansem's arm collide with his chest. He looked up, and saw a stretch of highway in front of them. It seemed like an old section, with holes and weeds, and no cars coming either way.

"Let's cross fast." Sam suggested, and started across when Ansem snagged his shirt.

"Wait a minute," Ansem said. "We're all tired, right? Mariana obviously needs to rest, and this place is about as remote as it gets. I think we should take this opportunity and rest while we can."

Sam considered, looking longingly across the highway. His instincts were telling him to keep going, to get as far away as they could, but he knew that Ansem was right. They all needed to rest. And eat, if they could find anything.

"Okay," Sam relented, and the group relaxed. "Let's rest here for a while."

* * *

Sam stared into the flames of the campfire, lost in thought. His stomach growled, and he tried to ignore it. Nico sat to the side, quietly shooting jets of flame into the logs and sticks.

"Handy," Sam commented, and Nico nodded solemnly.

"Nico, how did you end up in there?" Sam asked. "I mean, I know you were an orange, but…"

Nico didn't respond for a moment, staring into the tongues of fire raising from the ground. More small streams of fire shot from his fingertips, reigniting the wood in the pile to burn more fiercely.

"My parents hid it from the authorities." He finally spoke. "They knew what I was. They knew it was me the time my homework caught on fire, and the time we were camping and the wet logs actually burned. They knew what I could do. But they didn't want to lose me."

Sam averted his gaze. "What happened?" He asked, because he knew how that was. No matter what, something always happened.

Nico paused, his hands going still. The fire died down a little, and Nico's face was clouded in darkness.

"My sister and I got into an argument." He murmured. "She pushed me, and I shoved back. But I guess I was more upset than I thought."

Sam closed his eyes, hearing the pain in Nico's voice. Sam knew what that felt like. The anguish of knowing that you hurt someone you love, even indirectly. The pain of knowing that you could never take it back.

"She...She went up flames." Nico choked, and Sam saw him angrily swipe a tear from his eyes. "There was nothing I could do, but my parents finally put her out."

He paused, taking a shuddering breath. "She spent four months in the ICU, and she finally made it, but she'll never be the same. Scars covering her entire body, nerves permanently damaged in her hands and face. Even had to get a glass eye."

Nico raised a hand, peering at it. "I turned myself in after that. My parents wouldn't have, and they said my sister wouldn't have wanted me to. But…" He lowered it, staring directly into the fire. "It was my fault that she couldn't tell me that herself. So I turned myself in."

"I'm sorry," Sam said softly, knowing that it would never be enough. Nico didn't respond.

Sam looked around at the sleeping forms of the other kids. Mariana was sleeping fitfully, her head on Toby's stomach, and Jake was curled up near them, his head pillowed by his arm. Ansem slept sitting against a tree, further from the group.

"Is Lily back yet?" Sam asked Nico. Nico looked up, and scanned the area.

"She'll be back soon enough." Nico said. "Believe me, if she had gotten into trouble, we would have heard the screams."

Sam chuckled. "Funny. Lily doesn't strike me as the type to scream for help."

"She isn't." Nico responded with a straight face. "It wouldn't be her screaming."

A snap behind them made both boys jump. Lily stepped through the undergrowth, a smirk on her face. "A little jumpy, aren't we?"

"You move like a ghost, Lil," Nico remarked with a small smile.

"Got any food?" Sam asked hopefully.

Lily smiled. "Hope you're a fan of squirrel," She said, holding up the limp rodent. Sam made a face.

"What? That's disgusting."

"What did you think I was doing out there?" Lily snapped. "Searching for a McDonald's?"

Sam shook his head. "How are you even going to skin the thing?" Sam asked.

Lily smirked, pulling a jagged piece of broken glass out of her pocket. "I smashed a window before we jumped ship. Figured I should leave my mark somehow."

"You're going to cut your hand." Sam complained. Lily rolled her eyes.

"Please." She set down the shard, and tore a strip from her jumpsuit. She tied it around the shard, creating a handle. "Now, _Mom_, if you don't mind, I'm going to go make dinner."

Lily returned a few minutes later with a skinned squirrel on a stick, and she held it over the fire, laughing at Sam's expression.

Sam heard a groan, and looked back, seeing Mariana turn in her sleep. His brow furrowed in worry, and he shifted back toward the fire.

"Did you check Mariana's injury?" He asked Lily.

"Of course I did." She snapped. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Sam shook his head. "No, I don't." He didn't take her hostility personally. She always got defensive about her friends.

Lily sighed. "Sorry, I just- I'm worried. That guy actually shot her. The bullet only grazed her side, but it's pretty deep, and she lost a lot of blood."

Sam frowned. "Maybe we should get her to a hospital."

Lily shot him an angry look. "And what, get her sent back to that place?"

"Better than dead!"

"She goes back there, she's as good as dead!" Lily shouted back, and then lowered her voice with a glance around at the sleeping forms. "If any of us go back there, Vanector will just give us the needle. She won't care about protocol, or due cause, or any of that. She'll make it her personal mission to make sure all of us are dead."

Sam looked away. "I just don't want her to die." He admitted, and his voice broke.

"She isn't going to." Lily said fiercely. "She's a fighter. She'll make it."

_But that's just it. _Sam thought. _Mariana isn't a fighter. That makes it even more unfair that this happened to her. _

"Where's Ansem?" Lily asked suddenly, looking around. Sam turned back to where he had seen the boy before, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Ansem?" Sam stood up, and crept toward the dark of the woods, peering into the shadows. Where could he have gone? A shape moved in the darkness, and Sam took a step back. The figure stepped forward again, suddenly lunging forward. Sam fell back, heart pounding, as Ansem burst through the treeline. Relief rushed through Sam's body.

"God, Ansem, you scared the crap out of me." He gasped. Ansem smirked.

"Sorry." He apologized. "Tripped."

Lily came charging over. "Where the hell were you?" She snarled, grabbing the front of his shirt.

Ansem shoved her away with one hand, the other in his pocket. "Back off, okay? I had to pee. That okay with you?"

Lily narrowed her eyes angrily at him, but turned away, huffing back to the fire. Sam opened his mouth to say something to Ansem, when something else interrupted his thought.

The hum of an engine came sounding from down the road. Sam's heart jolted, and he spun to face Nico. "Put out the fire!" He hissed, yanking Ansem down to duck behind a bush.

"No, Sam!" Ansem grabbed his sleeve. "These are the people who can help us. They can get us out of here."

Sam looked at Ansem suspiciously. "Are you sure it's them?" He asked, as Nico smothered the flames.

"Yes." Ansem said absolutely.

"How do you know?"

"I just know, Sam, please. You have to trust me on this." Ansem said quickly. His eyes were desperate. "If they don't see the fire, they won't know where we are. Please. We can trust them."

Sam considered for a moment, and then gritted his teeth. He turned to Nico, nodding his head. With one jerk of the hand, the flames erupted back into the logs, and the clearing was lit up again. Mariana and Toby had woken up in the commotion, and Toby started to stand. Mariana gazed up at the company with confused eyes, and Sam leaned down next to her.

"It's okay," He murmured. "We're going to get you some help, okay?"

She nodded, and Toby sat down again, propping her up against him. Ansem crossed over to Jake, and shook him awake.

"It's time." He muttered. Jake stared up at him, eyes bright and excited. Ansem placed something in his palm.

"You take Lily." He ordered quietly. "I got Sam. Do it quick, okay?" Jake nodded and stood up.

A blue van pulled up beside the road, and idled there, engine running. Ansem took a few steps and stood beside Sam. "Just wait." He said.

The driver's side door opened, and a man crossed around the car. His face was difficult to see in the darkness, but when he stepped into the firelight, Sam took a step back.

"No…" He murmured, his heart heavy with dread.

Dr. Neville held up his hands. "Now, Sam, hear me out…"

"You!" Sam shouted. "Stay away from me!"

"Sam, you know this guy?" Lily fixed a suspicious glare at the doctor. Behind her, Jake took a casual step closer.

"I wish I didn't." Sam muttered, staring daggers at the man.

"Sam, I can help you." Dr. Neville insisted. "Come with me."

"I'd rather die!" Sam spat. "I've seen what you've done to those kids. It was _you _who took them, tortured them!"

"No, Sam, you've got it wrong, I was only helping them…"

"Save it!" Sam shouted. He turned to the rest of the group. "Grab your stuff. We're leaving." Toby pulled Mariana to her feet, and she shakily stood. He turned back to Dr. Neville. "And if you try to follow us, I swear I'll snap your neck." He turned to leave, and heard the other car door open.

"Now, Sam, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sam heard a familiar voice sneer. He gritted his teeth, and turned, nearly growling as his suspicions were confirmed. Mr. Pearson stepped out of the car, a gun leveled at Sam's head.

"Trust me, boy, I can make this as difficult as you want me to." Mr. Pearson said. "I don't want to use extreme measures, but I will if I have to."

"Screw you!" Sam shouted. "You've been after me from the beginning. Sending me to the worst homes, always asking the board to send me away, never checking on me unless it was to bring me one step closer to a camp! Now, you're somehow involved in some psychotic plan to kidnap kids! What's wrong with you?"

"Ansem?" Mr. Pearson said simply. Sam frowned. He turned to see what the man was talking about, when he felt a sting in his neck. Sam jerked away, to see Ansem holding up a syringe.

"What?" He stumbled backwards, his legs giving out. Sam collapsed to the ground.

He heard Lily scream, and lunge for him, but then her scream died out, and he saw Jake supporting her with a needle stuck in her neck.

Nico stepped forward, hands raised offensively, but stopped when he heard the telltale click of a gun. Mr. Pearson now held the gun aimed at Mariana, who was a dangerous shade of gray.

"Now, son, don't do anything stupid." He said. "Your friend looks bad enough as it is."

Mariana tried to take a step, and cried out as she fell. Toby kneeled beside her, and looked up frantically. "Something's wrong!" He called out, tearfully. "Please…"

Nico kept his gaze fixed on Mr. Pearson. He didn't say a word, but backed up and stood in front of the two remaining kids.

Sam groaned on the ground, still barely hanging on to consciousness. "Run, Nico." he gasped. "Find...Winchesters...help…" His head fell to the side, and he couldn't find the strength to say any more.

Jake picked up Sam and Lily over each shoulder, and dropped them in the back of the van. Sam stared at Dr. Neville, who secured both of the kids onto boards and strapped their wrists and ankles.

"You won't get away with this." Sam promised him. "I swear, I will not let you win."

Dr. Neville smiled demeaningly. "It's okay, Sam." He said. "Just rest now."

Sam fought the darkness, but as Dr. Neville closed and locked the back doors, the exhaustion won over him, and he found himself drifting into the world of nothing.

* * *

Nico stared after the blue van as it drove away. He managed to get the license plate, not that it would do any good. It wasn't like they could go to the police and report a kidnapping.

"What are we going to do?" Toby asked him. "What happened to Mariana?"

Nico leaned down, and inspected her wound. It was still leaking blood, which he knew was a bad sign. However, the red shiny skin around the injury worried him more.

"It's infected." He sighed, standing back up. He looked out into the woods, thinking for a moment.

Toby stared up at him, waiting for him to stay something. "_So what are we going to do?!_" He shrieked, his voice panicked.

Nico dropped down, placing his hands on Toby's shoulders. "We're going to find the Winchesters." He said confidently. "That's what we're going to do."

"And then what?"

Nico stood, glaring after the van that had just taken two of Nico's closest friends, people that he considered family. He looked back down at Toby.

"Then we hunt down the idiots that thought they could mess with us."

* * *

**I hope you like that, because I just spent about three hours power writing that entire chapter. : )**

**Seriously, though, let me know what you think. I know it's really long, and I'm sorry for that, but once I got going my fingers and story-controlling-brain took over and I couldn't stop them. **

**Cheers!**


	18. Journey

**THANK YOU! I reached 100 reviews, which has been a personal goal of mine for a while, and it is completely because of all of you amazing people! I'm so glad that you've been enjoying the story, and I hope you'll hang on for the next couple chapters! We're nearing the finish line! ; ) **

**Chapter 18 - Journey**

* * *

"_Dean?" Sam's voice echoed out from the darkness. "Dean?" _

_Dean spun around, searching for him, but unable to make his way in the shadows. Leaves and twigs snapped under his feet, and he could feel trees on either side of him, but there was no moon and no stars to light his path. _

"_Dean?" _

"_Sammy!" Dean called out, hoping to locate him. No response was heard. _

_Dean heard a crunching footstep nearby, and he froze. Was it Sam? The woods were silent for a moment, time seeming to hang in the balance. And then the scream split the air. _

"_Dean!" Sam cried, somewhere closeby. _

_Dean went charging toward the voice, but halted when another shout came from the opposite side. _

"_Dean, help me!" _

"_Please, Dean!" _

"_Noo! Dean!" _

_He spun, frantically trying to figure out where the voice was coming from, but he couldn't tell. He just couldn't tell. _

"_SAMMY!" Dean shouted back, because he didn't know what else to do. Because there was _nothing_ else that he could do. _

"_SAMMY!" _

Dean's head jolted off of the pillow, his own cries still resounding in his head. Groaning, he rolled onto his back, and pushed himself upright. After a moment, he realized what had woken him. His father was finally back from whatever bizarre research trip he had gone on.

Rushing quickly to the kitchen, Dean walked in as John hugged Mary in greeting and pecked her cheek. John looked up, and sighed, seeing Dean's frantic expression.

"Where have you been?" Dean asked, freezing a few feet from his father.

"Dean, I had to find some info." John said, a warning in his tone.

"For two days?" Dean snapped in exasperation. "I could have gone with you, helped you!"

"You wouldn't have been much help, Dean!" John fired back. Dean flinched, and looked away, trying to conceal the hurt in his eyes.

John sighed. "Son, I don't mean that. But you haven't had any training, not with the thing I'm looking for. I haven't even had much experience with it."

"So, what is it?" Dean asked after a moment, willing to let it go. "What the heck is a Devil's Eight?"

"It's not so much a _what_ as a _who_." John informed cryptically. He hesitated. "Well, it's also a bit of a what, I guess…"

"Dad!" Dean snapped.

John sighed. "I'm sorry, Dean….I'm just tired. I've been contacting every hunter close by, trying to get information about this. No one seems to know much."

"What _do_ you know?" Dean asked impatiently.

John took a seat by the table. "Dean, do you know where psychics come from?"

Dean shook his head, sitting down opposite of his father. "I thought it was a freak thing. Something that just happened." He hadn't really thought about it much at all, actually.

"Well, not exactly." John continued. "It's definitely not genetic, that's for sure. In fact, it has nothing at all to do with who your parents are. Or race, gender, mental state, or physical ability. The one connection between all of the psychics is their age."

"Age?" Dean echoed.

"Between some of them." John tried to explain. "There are certain groups of psychics, different abilities, but the exact same age."

"Okay, what does that have to do with anything?" Dean questioned.

"It means that they got their gifts at the same time." John looked up, his eyes grave. "From the same thing."

"Same thing?"

John nodded. "Demons used to be a lot more active, Dean." He said softly. "It seemed that every time you turned around, there was another one, messing up someone's life. Kill one, and two thousand took their place. My father used to tell me about the times that he would track down one demon, only to find that the entire town had been taken over by the Black-Eyes."

"But, about fifty years ago, things started to turn around. More and more people learned about demons, how to spot them, how to get rid of them without killing the host, and how to protect themselves against them. People started fighting back. And demons lost more and more power."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Dean asked. "You act like that's bad news."

"It _was_ good," John admitted, running a hand over his head. "For a short while. But then demons found a new way to fight back."

"How?"

"Through our children," John answered, looking up at his son. "Some of the more powerful demons, the ones that hadn't lost all their influence, would find six-month-old children. They snuck into their nurseries. Made sure that they wouldn't be interrupted. And then they bled into the baby's mouths. Some demons still find ways to do that. Save up all their power so that they can make their own little batch of blood-fed psychics. "

Dean's face paled. He looked like he was going to be sick. "That-that didn't-"

"Yes, Dean." John answered. "That happened to Sam. When he was six months old."

Dean closed his eyes, looking nauseas. "So why do they do that?" He said, with eyes still clamped shut.

"They were trying to create weapons. Nearly undetectable humans with demon gifts that would be like double agents. Humans working for the side of evil." John said in a steady voice. Dean shook his head, looking disgusted at the thought.

"But, they forgot that humans are humans. Sure, some of the psychics make bad choices with their gifts, but most of the psychics do good things with these gifts. Or, at the very least, they choose not to do bad things." John shrugged. "And, most of these demons are exorcised long before they could influence these children do anything. They lose power, fade away, and become forgotten."

"So what's the problem?" Dean snapped, his eyes opening. "A demon infects a kid, expects him to be some big bad weapon, which doesn't work, and then dies out. Great. What does this have to with the Devil's Eight?"

John paused, fixing his son in an iron stare. "Dean, I've taught you better than that. Demons never die out. They can lose all their power, become a mere shadow and shell of what they were, get lost in the lowest circle of Hell, but they never die. And they can always be brought back."

A chill ran down Dean's spine. "So, that's what this Devil's Eight is going to do? Bring back some demon?"

"A Devil's Eight is the eight children that the demon feeds his blood to. When a specific ritual is performed, their powers combine in intensity, meaning that while each child retains his own gift, the power of that gift is magnified by thousands." John said, his voice low and dreading. "And they fall completely under the power of the demon, who feeds on the energy that their gifts create in order to rise from Hell."

Dean's eyes were wide. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"I've compiled a list of the children. Max, Ava, Scott, Ansem and Andrew, Jake, and Lily." He looked at his son, his eyes pained. "And Sam. They all were charges of Peter Pearson. Who, incidentally, isn't a real person."

Dean reeled, staring at his father in shock. "Like, he's a monster, or…?"

"No," John shook his head. "Peter Pearson isn't his real name. The social workers who work with psychics aren't searched very thoroughly in their background check. The agencies are lucky if they can get anyone at all, so when they do get someone, they don't worry too much about their past. Peter Pearson used to be Levi Harper."

Dean stood up. "You mean the Levi Harper that was arrested when I was, like, nine? That guy accused of planning to raise demons?"

"The one and only," John affirmed. "There was no proof of the crime, so he never went to jail. And now, it seems that he's trying to do the same thing as nine years ago."

"So, what demon is Pear-Harper trying to raise?" Dean asked. "Or does it matter?"

"It definitely matters, Dean." John answered. "He's trying to raise the same demon that he was nine years ago. A demon named Azazel."

A chill rushed through the room, sucking the air out of the space. Dean shuddered, the name like ice shards on his skin.

"A demon that powerful has to be raised on a full moon." John said. "So, we have a little time."

"Dad, the next full moon is tomorrow night." Dean reminded him with wide eyes. "Are you saying that we have two days to find Sam and take down these guys?"

"Unfortunately, yes." John confirmed. "Two days to track down Harper, find the kids, and stop this thing before it can bring the end of the world."

* * *

Sam woke up with cold metal pressing into his spine. When he pried his eyes open, things around him were blurry. Groaning, he pushed himself up, swallowing to get rid of the cottony taste in his mouth. Sam blinked, looking around, his vision slowly clearing.

"Sam?" Lily spoke beside him. Squinting, Sam could tell that she was about four feet from where he was. There were blurry stripes between the two of them. Sam reached out, touching more cold metal, running vertically up to the ceiling of the small space and stuck solidly in the floor.

"Are you okay?" Lily's voice was broken, shaking. She sounded more scared than Sam had ever heard her.

Sam tried to respond, but a stab of pain ripped through his skull. Sam groaned, twisting his fingers into his hair.

"Sam?!" Lily cried, gripping the bars of her cage. She sounded frantic. Sam wanted to assure her that he was fine, but couldn't find the strength.

"He'll be okay," A small voice said from across the room. Sam glanced up, the pain starting to abate, and saw a little huddled figure leaning defeatedly against the bars of her cage. "The headache from the drugs only lasts a little while."

"Ava," Sam said hoarsely, and a small smile lit up Ava's face.

"How do you know my name?" She asked, a small spark in her tired voice.

"I have visions," Sam murmured, shaking his head slightly to get rid of the foggy feeling.

Ava laughed cheerlessly. "No way. We're twins."

"I can also move things with my mind." Sam said, trying to keep himself awake. "Telekinesis."

"Max!" Ava looked to her side, speaking to a frail looking shape sleeping in the corner of his cage. "Max, wake up!"

The small curly-haired boy raised his head, blinking tiredly. "Ava?"

"Max, this is Sam," She introduced, pointing to Sam's cage. "He can move things like you do!" She sounded like she was forcing excitement. Max nodded dispassionately, and his head fell back to the ground, his eyes closing again.

Ava looked at Sam desperately. "He's been like that for days. I'm worried that there's something wrong with him."

Ava turned to her other side. "Scott! Scott, open your eyes!"

Sam saw a pale boy with dark hair jerk awake, his body jack-knifing to attention. His eyes darted around the small space, settling on Sam. He rubbed his eyes, staring at Sam again.

"Who are you?" Scott asked, his voice defensive.

"Sam," Sam responded. He gestured to the cage next to him. "This is Lily."

"Well, Sam, Lily, welcome to our humble abode," Scott said with a sarcastic lilt to his voice. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Ava pressed a hand against the front of her cage. "Sam, do you know where Jake and Ansem are?"

"How would I know?" Sam asked bitterly, remembering their betrayal. "Probably laughing with Neville and Pearson."

"I knew it!" Scott exclaimed, his eyes furious. "Those two were working with them the whole time."

Ava frowned, turning away. "Not Andrew." She stated stubbornly. "He wouldn't do that."

"I don't know where Andrew is." Sam said. "He wasn't with us."

Ava's eyes widened fearfully. "You don't think he's...I mean, he couldn't be…"

Sam looked worriedly at the door. From what he had seen, Andrew seemed to be the victim in all of this. "I hope not, Ava." Sam said, knowing that the words wouldn't be enough. "I really hope not."

* * *

Nico awoke to someone shoving his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open, seeing the blurry form of Toby above him. The sun shone just above the horizon, informing Nico that it was just after dawn. He estimated that he had slept for only five or six hours.

"Hey," Toby sounded relieved. There was worry in his eye, and he glanced behind him. "I think something's wrong with Mariana."

Nico groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He crossed the clearing to where Mariana was huddled on the ground, her head pillowed by her arms. The side of her jumpsuit was stained with blood, and her face was pale. Nico kneeled beside his friend, placing a hand on her forehead.

Nico cursed inwardly. Her forehead was hot, and sweat collected on her skin. Despite her body's temperature, she shivered.

"She has a temperature," Nico said to Toby, who stood by, looking worried. "A bad one, by the looks of it."

Nico looked at the small tear in the fabric where the bullet had entered. He quietly slipped over Mariana's still form, skimming his fingers over the surface of her jumpsuit. His eyes widened as he examined the clothing.

"What's wrong?" Toby asked, sensing his alarm.

Nico looked up at him, mind racing. "I though Lily said the bullet just grazed her." He said, his tone almost accusatory.

"She did." Toby answered, slightly defensive. "She said that it wasn't that bad."

"Well, it is." Nico said grimly, calmly climbing back over Mariana and reaching for the zipper of her jumpsuit.

"What are you doing?!" Toby protested, quickly blocking Nico and knocking his hand away.

Nico glared at the young boy. "What do you think I'm doing, Toby? I need to check out the wound."

"Do you have to take off her clothes?" Toby complained.

Nico stared at him for a moment. "Toby, I don't have x-ray vision. What else do you want me to do?"

Toby crossed his arms stubbornly and turned his head to the side, looking conflicted.

Nico sighed. "Mariana is like my sister, Toby. I promise not to do anything weird." He vowed, looking slightly irritated that he had to promise something like that.

With one last searching gaze, Toby moved to the side, allowing Nico to unzip Mariana's jumpsuit. Carefully, Nico pulled down the shoulder of the clothing, and maneuvered her arm out of the sleeve. Nico peeled away the fabric from her side, wincing at the bloody mess it revealed.

Nico heard a whimper above him, and he looked up to see Toby almost as pale as Mariana. He nodded to the ground. "Sit down. Talk to her if she starts to wake up, okay?"

Toby nodded wordlessly, and sat, placing Mariana's head in his lap. He carefully kept his eyes away from the wound.

Nico inspected the wound by eye at first, keeping his hands away. The skin was shiny and red, and blood and pus was leaking out of the bullet hole. That, combined with the fever and clammy skin, almost certainly meant that the wound was infected. However, that wasn't what had him truly worried. What worried him most was the fact that the hole was solitary, the only bullet wound on Mariana's side.

Which meant there was no exit wound.

Which meant the bullet was still lodged in Mariana's side.

Nico sighed, and stood up. "The wound is infected." He said solemnly. "And the bullet is still inside."

Toby's eyes widened. "W-what do we do?"

Nico looked out past the road. He knew that heading north would take them to the nearest town, only about six miles away. Given Mariana's condition, it would take them at least three hours. For a moment, he considered taking her back to the Camp. At least they would be able to get medical care for her.

Nico shook his head, forgetting the idea. Vanector might patch up Mariana, but only so that she could sell her off to the highest bidder. And there was no telling what she would do to him and Toby. Returning was not an option.

"We head in to town." Nico answered Toby.

"And?" Toby prompted, hoping for a more thorough answer.

Nico leaned down, lifting Mariana as gently as he could in his arms. "I'll get back to you on that."

* * *

The sun beat down on the trio as they walked along the highway. Nico felt sweat trickle down his face as he carried Mariana. She wasn't in any way a heavy burden, and he had definitely carried bulkier loads, but the heat was beginning to get to him. He had stripped the top of his jumpsuit, tying the arms around his waist, leaving his white undershirt on. Toby scrambled along behind him, hopping along rocks and logs as they went.

Every time Nico shifted Mariana in his arms, he felt another gush of blood flow out of her wound. He gritted his teeth, trying to press her injured side closer to him, hoping to stop some of the bleeding. Toby had offered up his T-Shirt, and Nico and ripped it into strips to bind up Mariana's side and stem the bleeding. Unfortunately, Nico could tell the makeshift bandages were already soaked through. Mariana's face had gone a sickening shade of grey, and Nico was worried that if they didn't find some way to stop the bleeding soon, they would lose her.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Nico caught sight of buildings ahead of them. He breathed a sigh of relief, pushing the pace a little faster. Toby pranced up next to him, eyes focused on the ground as he lept from stone to stone.

"Nico, how are we going to keep from being spotted?" Toby asked. "I mean, we got these get-ups, which aren't exactly inconspicuous, and-"

"I'm working on it." Nico interjected. As they neared the small town, it was clear that there were not many commuters out on the street, mostly store owners sweeping their welcome mats. Nico pulled Toby up next to him, and tried to walk quickly, keeping an eye out for any camera's that might be placed along the streets.

Nico looked along the storefronts, his heart sinking. What had he been expecting? Free food? Clothes? A big sign with "Psychics Welcome Here!" printed on it? Hopelessness began to overwhelm Nico. How was he supposed to find the Winchesters? All he had was a name. He didn't know where they lived, or how to get in touch, or even if the Winchesters would help them at all.

Nico felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise, and he turned to see a young woman wearing an apron staring at the three with suspicious eyes. Nico turned and grabbed Toby's arm, tugging him into the closest store.

The door let out a ring as they entered, and an old man sitting at the counter looked up from his newspaper.

"Mornin' folks-" He began, but his eyes narrowed as he looked them over. He noticed their torn jumpsuits, and bloodstained clothes. "You best be gettin' outta here." The man said coldly, before snapping his newspaper and looking back down at the print.

"We just need a first aid kit." Nico said, stepping forward. He lifted Mariana slightly, still unconscious in his arms. "My friend is hurt and-"

"If you're not outside my store in ten seconds," The man threatened. "I will call the authorities."

Nico stiffened. He opened his mouth to tell him off, and-

Toby stepped forward. "Please, sir. We just need some band aids. Some food or water for her if you have them." He tilted his head to the side. "We won't be long, I promise."

The man's eyes softened as he looked at Toby. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. Ten minutes. But then you have to leave, no matter what condition your friend is in."

Toby gave him a grateful smile. "Of course."

The man led them into a back storage area, and handed them a first aid kit. His eyes ran over the rag tag group, settling on Toby for a short minute.

"Ten minutes," The man repeated, trying to sound resolute. "That's all."

Toby nodded, and the man left, a small frown on his face. Nico settled down on the ground, quickly unzipping Mariana's jumpsuit again. He found a packet of antiseptic wipes, and swiped one over the surface of the wound, trying to clean it as best he could. He grabbed a small packet of antibiotic ointment, and squeezed out the contents, coating the wound.

Mariana shifted in her sleep, whimpering slightly. Toby kneeled by her head, brushing her hair and murmuring softly.

Nico waited until she was still, and then pulled out a compress, adhesive bandages, and a roll of adhesive cloth tape. He moved to place the compress on her skin, but Toby reached out a hand.

"Wait, aren't you going to get the bullet out?" He asked, looking down with wide eyes.

Nico raised an eyebrow, looking amused. He placed the compress onto the wound, pressing down. Nico looked up at Toby, a smile playing on his lips.

"You know, pulling out a bullet could actually do more harm than good. It's probably stopping some of the arteries, preventing her from bleeding out."

Toby stared at the blood that covered Nico's hands, T-Shirt, and Mariana's jumpsuit. "This isn't bleeding out?" He asked in disbelief.

Nico looked down. "It's definitely not as bad as it could have been." He said grimly.

Nico covered the compress with a few strips of adhesive bandages, and taped the layers down with the cloth tape. He sat back, looking over his work. Nico nodded after a moment.

"You know, you act like you've done this before." Toby pointed out.

Nico shrugged. "My dad was military. He taught me a lot of the stuff that he knew." He said casually. "He, uh… He hunted runaway psychics."

Toby's jaw dropped. "What? But you told us that your parents hid you!"

"They did." Nico insisted. "My dad knew what happened to psychics after they were caught. He didn't mind his job. He usually hunted down the ones that had hurt people, sometimes on purpose. He didn't mind locking them away, keeping people safe. But he knew that if people found out what I'd done…" Nico looked away. "He knew that I'd be shut away like the rest of them."

Toby opened his mouth to respond, when the door opened again. The old man stepped in, holding a loaf of bread and a water bottle. He handed them down wordlessly, and turned to leave.

"Thank you," Toby said, catching his sleeve.

The man froze, turning and looking at Toby coldly. "I should just report you." He muttered.

Toby's eyes widened, and he tilted his head. The man's eyes softened. He gently pulled out of Toby's grasp. "A few more minutes." He said as he left, and shut the door behind him.

Nico uncapped the water bottle, setting beside him. He rummaged through the kit, pulling out a small bottle of aspirin. Nico tipped two into his palm, and set the bottle aside. He pulled Mariana's mouth open, and set the two pills on her tongue. He tilted the water bottle slightly to pour in a mouthful of water, and Mariana swallowed in her sleep.

Nico flashed a rare grin at Toby, happy for their temporary circumstances, and was shocked to see a frown on Toby's face. He leaned forward, nudging his friends shoulder with his hand.

"Toby, smile. We're safe for now, and we've got some medical stuff." He picked up the loaf of bread, breaking it in thirds. "And we can eat like kings."

Toby looked up, and Nico saw guilt shining in his eyes. "I hate doing that." Toby said quietly, shifting his gaze back to the floor.

Nico set down the food. "What are you talking about?"

Toby sighed. "I don't like..._doing _that to people."

Nico frowned. "What? Toby, I have no idea what you mean."

Toby looked up, miserable. "You don't know what I do, do you?"

"You mean your gift?" Nico thought for a moment. It had never really been confirmed, but Nico had always assumed that Toby had telekinesis. Someone had told him...or Toby had...or...Come to think of it, Nico couldn't remember how he had come by that information. In the six months that Toby had been with them, the topic had never really come up.

Toby gave a humorless laugh, and nodded. "Yeah, thought so."

"What's the big deal?" Nico asked, some of his good mood draining away.

There was a pause. "I can make people...feel things." Toby said quietly. "Emotions. I can control how they feel."

"So?" Nico responded after a moment. "That sounds kind of cool."

Toby's head shot up, and Nico was shocked to see tears in his eyes. "No, it isn't!" He shouted. "It's not cool! I don't like telling people how to feel, taking away their choice like that." He sniffed. "And if works on psychics, too."

Nico blinked. "So, you could control what I'm feeling?"

Toby nodded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I could make you so hopeless that you would drag yourself all the way back to the Camp and turn yourself in. I could make you so angry that you could kill someone. I could make you do anything I want." The words were eery, but Toby sounded so miserable, so sad, that Nico found it impossible to see any real threat in the words.

"But you would never do any of those things." Nico reasoned.

"But sometimes I can't control it." Toby admitted. "Remember how Lily just opened right up to Ansem and Jake? Like, right away? Sam noticed something off about them, but I liked them. I wanted them to be part of our group. So Lily wanted it, too."

Nico was shocked. He'd thought that was out of character for Lily, but…

Toby continued. " I didn't want to stay at the Care homes, so they didn't want me to stay. I never wanted to go with the hunters, so they never wanted me to go with them." He looked up at Nico, a tear falling from his eye. "I wanted to be a part of your group, so you wanted me, too."

Nico shook his head. "Toby, that's not…"

"But how can you be sure that you really like me?" Toby asked. "What if you really hate me, but I won't let you feel that?"

Nico opened his mouth, but Toby plowed on.

"I can't trust myself. I'm like this constant time bomb, that could go off at any moment. I could make people hate each other, love each other, trust each other, but _none of it is real!_" Toby broke off, sobbing into his arms, and Nico could tell this was a guilt Toby had harbored for a long time.

Nico leaned forward, wrapping an arm around Toby's shoulder. Toby resisted, shifting away from him, but Nico held tight, willingly coming in closer contact with anyone than he had in a long time.

"Toby, you are my friend. That is real." He promised. Toby opened his mouth to say something, but Nico cut him off.

"You can't make someone feel something 24/7, right? I'm guessing after we leave this guy will return to a sour old geezer who hates psychics again, and wonder why in the world he let us go." Nico asked.

Toby nodded weakly. "Something like that."

Nico continued. "Well, I can say for a fact I liked you since I saw you. Sure, you were a little irritating, with a peppy attitude and optimism that went against everything that place stood for. But you made people smile. And," He continued before Toby could interject. "It wasn't because of some gift. It was because of who you are."

Toby nodded slightly, leaning against Nico. Nico leaned forward, grabbing a third of the bread and handing it to Toby, and keeping a third for himself. "Eat." Nico ordered. "We still have a while to go before we reach the Winchesters."

* * *

**Thank you for hanging in there. I know it was a long chapter, and not much happened. I just felt like there was some setting up that had to be done for the next chapter. **

**What do you think of the revelation from Toby? I realize that it might not be as interesting as the main story plot, but I just can't seem to avoid creating angst even among side characters. Sorry?**

**Please review, and tell me what you liked. Go ahead and let me know what you **_**didn't **_**like as well. (dialogue too cheesy, not enough action, too confusing, etc.) Critique just helps me know what to improve in the future!**

**Cheers!**


	19. Sammy

**Yeah, this is gonna be a long one. Sorry. Just hang in there. (and enjoy) **

**Chapter 19 - Sammy**

* * *

Ansem walked along the cold hallway, aimlessly heading toward the room of cages. He didn't want to go in, not really, but he did want to check on them. Make sure they were...okay.

Dr. Neville and Pearson said they had a plan. One that would free all the psychics, save the world, punish the humans that had reigned terror upon them, blah blah blah. Ansem thought that their plan sounded more like the script of the crazy religious preacher that used to shout on the corner of his street.

He reached the bolted metal door, and peered into the small, thick plate of glass that served as a window. All was quiet in the small room. Thin forms shifted in the cages, turning from one side to another.

"Wonderful, isn't it?"

Ansem jumped at the sound of Dr. Neville's silky voice in his ear. He turned, seeing the doctor standing behind him, staring fondly into the small room.

"Putting a bunch of kids in cages? No, I wouldn't call that wonderful." Ansem answered curtly, turning back to the door.

"The cages are temporary." Dr. Neville said, waving a hand dismissively. "But their freedom is forever."

"How can they be free stuck in there?" Ansem questioned in a tight voice.

"They will soon be free," Dr. Neville said, turning his stare to Ansem. "You will all soon be free."

Ansem shuddered inwardly at the maniacal fire that lit his eyes. He had been able to tell from the beginning that there was something off about Dr. Neville. This time he had spent with him only solidified his theory.

"Why do you...care...so much?" Ansem asked hesitantly. He knew that underneath Dr. Neville's calm exterior, there was an explosive temper, one that flared often and without warning.

Dr. Neville didn't seem to hear the question, still staring wonderingly into the room of cages.

"What is love, Ansem?" He asked after a long moment.

"What?" Ansem started, looking up at the doctor in confusion.

"What is love?" He repeated, turning from the cages to fix his chilling gaze on the boy. "I've heard countless stories from children. Children whose parents turned them in. Children whose parents tried to stop them, tried to ignore them, tried to leave them." His eyes tightened. "Tried to kill them."

Ansem took a small step back, uneasy.

"Why would parents do these things? These horrid things that most would never consider?" Dr. Neville gazed back into the small containment room, his eyes shining with concern for the fragile forms inside. "Do they think they're doing the right thing? Do they honestly believe in the bottom of their hearts that abandonment, or a life of Care homes, or _death_ would be better than living as a psychic?"

"I-I don't know…" Ansem answered cautiously. There was a long moment of quiet.

"I loved her," Dr. Neville murmured. His voice was so quiet, it didn't even seem to be meant for Ansem to hear. "I was doing the right thing for her."

"Who?"

"My daughter. Emilia." Dr. Neville answered. "She was beautiful. Smart. Courageous. Full of life."

Ansem's blood chilled at the past tense. "What happened to her?"

Dr. Neville's brow furrowed. "She...she developed these...abilities. She could freeze things, with a single touch. She loved it, always creating glaciers in the bathtub, and floating ice rafts in the creek behind our house."

He swallowed, and his face darkened. "I didn't know what I know now. I thought these gifts were going to destroy her. I'd heard about other children who'd been taken away because of their abilities. Children who'd never been seen again. I had to _do _something."

His voice had a desperate edge to it, remembering his past mistake. "I contacted a hunter that I'd known for years. He told me of a person that was trying to find a cure for the disease. That's what he called it." Dr. Neville's voice sunk to a whisper. "A disease."

"I sent her away." Dr. Neville said, his voice anguished. "To a man I barely knew anything about. All because I thought she was diseased."

"Wh-where is she now?" Ansem asked, his heart pounding and his heart heavy with dread.

Dr. Neville's head snapped up. "She's fine." He said with forced determination. He plastered a smile onto his face. "Once the psychics are free, she'll be able to come home. I'll have her back."

"How do you know?" Ansem asked carefully. "I mean, how do you know that she's even still...alive?"

Dr. Neville was shaking his head before Ansem finished, denying his statement. "No, she's fine. Jeffrey has assured me of this. He's been in contact with the man who's watching over Emilia. She's fine. She's fine."

Ansem narrowed his eyes. "Jeffrey? As in...Pearson?"

"Yes, yes." Dr. Neville waved a hand dismissively. "He says that it isn't safe for her to come back until we are finished. But once we are, she can return. She'll be safe." He smiled dementedly at Ansem. "And so will all of you."

* * *

Nico blinked awake, the light hanging from the ceiling shining brightly. He pushed himself up, groaning at the stiffness in his limbs. He didn't have a clock with him, but he could assume that it was near noon, if not afternoon. Silently, he cursed himself for sleeping so long.

He looked over, seeing Toby curled up with his head on Nico's lap. Mariana laid close by, her head pillowed by Toby's leg.

"Toby," Nico murmured, gently shaking his friend's shoulder. Toby groaned, curling away. "C'mon, man, wake up."

He reached into the first aid kit and pulled out the aspirin again. Touching Mariana's forehead, he could tell that her fever was still high. He shook two pills into his hand, and dropped them into Mariana's mouth, chasing them down with a small mouthful of water.

Sighing, Nico stood up. He stretched, inspecting the storage area around them carefully for the first time. It seemed to be for most of the extra items that the man wasn't selling as fast. All of the product was stored in cardboard boxes, stacked neatly on high shelves.

Nico was walking forward to see the boxes more closely when voices stopped him in his tracks. He lightly treaded to the door, pressing an ear against it.

"...sure about what you've reported?" A gruff man's voice asked.

The shopkeepers thin voice answered. "Yeah, I'm sure. Just get 'em outta my store."

Nico felt a flash of panic. They'd been reported. Whatever Toby had done to the shopkeeper had worn off, and he'd gone and reported them.

Quickly, Nico knelt down and shook Toby. "Wake up," he hissed. Toby's eyes snapped open, already alight with fear. Nico pressed a finger to his lips, and Toby nodded. He quietly got to his feet, looking around anxiously.

Nico picked up Mariana, still sleeping fitfully. Her skin was still clammy and hot, despite the care that Nico had taken through the night. He swiftly lifted her shirt and frowned at the infected wound, still looking shiny and red.

"Toby, there's an officer here. Looking for us." Nico said in a low voice. Toby's eyes widened fearfully. "Can you zap him?"

"What? Use my powers?" Toby clarified. Nico nodded, and Toby frowned. "I don't know."

Nico opened his mouth in exasperation, and Toby interrupted him. "It's not that I don't want to! Sometimes it doesn't work as well if they know it's coming. And if it's more than one…" He trailed off.

Nico looked at his companion. Sometimes he forgot how young Toby was. Nico hadn't told anyone, but his fifteenth birthday had passed two weeks ago. He, at fifteen, didn't want to deal with any of this, didn't feel old enough to do the things he did. He couldn't imagine how Toby, barely thirteen, was feeling. Sure, there was probably a risk for Toby to use his powers, but the truth was, Toby didn't want to use them. Even to save himself.

_How could anyone lock a kid like him up? _Nico thought in disgust.

"Okay, Toby. Here," He said, lowering Mariana into Toby's arms. Toby shifted, holding her weight, and looked at Nico anxiously.

"I'm going to hold them off." Nico said. "I want you to run. Take Mariana as far away as you can. Find the Winchesters."

"I don't know how!" Toby said, and Nico saw tears in his eyes. "Nico, please don't leave! I don't want to be on my own!"

"I won't leave you." Nico said assuredly, though he knew chances were bad. The voices outside the door were nearing, and their chance at a surprise attack were dwindling fast. "But you have to protect Mariana. Can you do that?"

Toby swallowed, and nodded firmly. "Yes."

"Good." Nico said, and turned toward the door. "When I say 'Run', you sprint for the door as fast as you can, you hear? Don't stop until you're a few blocks away. I'll come find you."

"Okay," Toby said, his hands shaking slightly.

Nico placed his hand on the doorknob, slowly counting down in his head as the voices came closer…closer…closer…

Suddenly, Nico shoved the door open, roaring like an animal. The two men outside, one in a dark uniform, yelled, and reared back in shock. Nico held out his hands threateningly, and shouted to Toby.

"Run, Toby! Run!" He ordered, and heard Toby sprinting past. The uniformed man lunged forward at Toby, and Nico intercepted him, grabbing his arm. Nico felt the heat rush to his hands, and the man shouted in pain. He yanked away, cradling his arm against his chest. His other hand rose, something shiny in his grasp.

_Gun. _Nico registered, just before the shot went off. Nico flinched, but there was no pain. He looked up, and noticed that the gun was not pointed at him. Dread sunk his heart, and Nico looked to where the barrel of the gun was pointing. Toby laid motionless on the floor, having almost reached the door. Mariana lay close by.

Blood roared in his head. Rage filled his mind. Heat surged all over his body, igniting his cells, like it did whenever he got upset, but this time Nico let it. He allowed the fury to kindle the fire that rose off of his body, cackling menacingly.

He turned toward the man, and could hardly see for the red haze over his eyes. He lunged forward, arms reaching out. He heard the bang, and felt himself fall, but he didn't care. He just let the fire reach out, seeking more targets, catching boxes and shelves, slowly consuming everything around him.

He could hear both men shouting, but their voices were distant. Nico didn't fight the pull of the darkness, and let it pull him down, into the comforting quiet.

* * *

Nico must have only been asleep for a few minutes. He blinked awake for the second time that day, his thoughts muddled and unclear. His limbs felt heavy, like they were being weighed down with anchors. The first thing he saw was a cold metal wall.

Adrenaline shot through his body, chasing away what remained of his exhaustion. He sat straight up, heart pounding. He shifted, and felt a tug on his wrists. He was wearing handcuffs.

Looking quickly to the side, Nico saw Toby and Mariana laying limply. Panic raced through his heart, and Nico scrambled over to the pair. He turned Toby on his back, and frantically looked for a bullet wound. His pulse slowed slightly when he found nothing. Nico pressed two fingers to Toby's neck, and was relieved to feel a steady beat thrumming under his fingers.

Nico forced himself to his feet, and almost fell when a sharp jolt shook the small cell. Looking around, Nico saw that they seemed to be in the back of the camp transport vehicles. Benches lined the walls of the cell, though the trio had been left free on the ground.

There were no windows to see outside, but there was a small glass window looking into the front of the car. Nico made his way over to the window on shaking legs. He peered through, seeing a solitary figure driving, tapping his hands along to an inaudible song. Nico felt fear and hopelessness wash over him.

It was really over.

On the run for 24 hours, and already they were caught again. A sob built up in his chest when he thought of being taken back to Roosevelt. There was no way that Vanector would let them live. She'd kill all of them, just to prove to herself that she was in charge. Or, she'd sell them off to the cruelest hunter she could find. Neither option was appealing.

The driver glanced back, and his eyes widened with shock when he saw Nico's face. The driver had dark brown eyes, and short hair covered mostly by a baseball cap with an insignia matching his uniform.

Nico dropped to the floor, despair threatening to drown him. He didn't know how to fix this. He didn't know how to make this better. Glancing at Toby and Mariana, sleeping peacefully on the floor, Nico felt a pang of remorse. He should have saved them. If he had done nothing else, he should have saved them.

Nico felt the vehicle slow to a stop. He stared at the heavy metal door, fear gripping him. Were they already back? Already at the camp? They couldn't be. In the brief glance at the front of the truck that he'd gotten, he'd seen a glimpse of a regular neighborhood. Not the tall, menacing fences of Roosevelt.

Adrenaline made his hands tingle, and he slowly maneuvered into a crouch as the heavy locks on the door were clicking open, one by one. He would not go down without a fight, whatever this was. Maybe Vanector had just ordered the guards to get rid of them, first chance they got. Maybe they were being sold. Maybe…

The door opened, and the driver of the vehicle looked in. Nico raised his hands, preparing to attack, but the man's hand snapped up, holding a gun. He stared at Nico, but the gun pointed to the small figures laying still on the floor.

"This one's not loaded with tranqs, son." He warned in a steady voice. "Just sit down."

Slowly, Nico lowered himself to the floor, glaring daggers at the man the whole time. He rested his hands in his lap, but kept them tense and ready.

"There we go." The man said with a smile. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He stepped into the small space, pulling the door shut behind him. He settled onto the floor, still holding the gun, loosely pointed at the two on the floor.

"My name's Charlie." The man introduced himself. "And you...You're Nico, right?"

Nico narrowed his eyes. It wouldn't be unusual for this man to know Nico's name, but it wasn't really pertinent to his job. He was supposed to cart psychics from point A to point B as fast as possible. Names weren't really part of the equation.

The cheerful look dropped from Charlie's face, and he leaned forward, staring at Nico with worry. "You _are_ Nico, right? Nico Tanero?"

Nico felt a jolt when his last name was spoken. He hadn't heard that name in...years. As many as he'd been in the system. Cautiously, he nodded, watching the man carefully.

The smile slipped back into place. "Thank God," Charlie said gratefully. "Would have been hard to explain to your old man otherwise."

Nico felt his spine stiffen. "What?"

"Your dad tracks down psychics for a living, kid." Charlie said with a wry smile. "You think he wouldn't notice that an African-American kid matching his kid's description was on the list to be hunted? He asked me to track you down, before anyone else could get to you."

"So…" Nico trailed off, perplexed by the turn of events.

"You're safe, Nico." Charlie said in a soft voice. "Your dad has a few friends that would be willing to hide you. And your friends. You could be safe."

"Safe?" Nico echoed, his voice dangerously close to breaking. The idea was so appealing after everything he'd been through. He wouldn't have to look over his shoulder, or worry about people following him. He could be safe, for the first time since he turned himself in. He fixed his gaze on Mariana and Toby. He could protect them. Wasn't that what he'd just said to himself? That he should have kept them safe, protected them? This was a chance to make sure that they stayed safe.

It was everything he'd wished for.

It was too good to be true.

Nico looked back at Charlie, whose eyes now seemed treacherous. Was this a trick? Lull him into a sense of security, so he'd be easier to take down? Or was it just him being paranoid?

"Nico?" Charlie said softly. "You can trust me." He held out something in his hand, and Nico felt his heart lurch. It was a small photo the size of a baseball card, worn and faded at the edges. Two figures took up most of the space in the photo, both grinning widely. A large baseball stadium stood behind them. It was one of the last pictures that Nico had taken with his father, when he was twelve.

"How did you get that?" Nico asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"Your father gave it to me," Charlie said. "He knew you wouldn't trust a total stranger." When Nico didn't respond, Charlie continued. "Look, Nico, I know you weren't just wandering around aimlessly. Why would you need to come into town? You've got the skills to survive in the wild, even with two extra mouths to feed. Why would you risk getting caught? What's so important?"

Nico resisted the urge to look at Mariana. After closer inspection in the store, he knew he couldn't fix it on his own. He really did not want to take her to a hospital, but he was hoping that the Winchesters might know what to do. But he didn't want to reveal how bad Mariana was, in case Charlie insisted that she get medical attention immediately. So, instead, he focused on the other reason they'd ventured out here.

"We were hoping to find a way to reach the Winchesters." Nico said carefully, unwilling to reveal too much.

"Winchester? As in John Winchester?" Charlie asked, sounding slightly surprised.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I know where he lives." Charlie said. "Helped out my sister with a ghoul problem back in '08." He raised his eyebrows at Nico. "He lives in Lawrence, about two towns over. Should take thirty minutes to get there. I can drive you, if you want."

Nico considered the offer carefully. Finally, he nodded. "First, take these off." He bargained. "And I want to sit up front."

"Sure." Charlie agreed easily. "Just promise not to burn me again."

Five minutes later, they were on their way again, Nico staring shrewdly out the window. The only reason he'd abandoned Toby and Mariana in the back was so that he could keep track of where they were going. And he was definitely going to keep track.

It was less than thirty minutes before Nico saw the "Welcome to Lawrence" sign that signified the end of their journey. He couldn't help but feel a wave of relief. He was more than ready for someone else to be in charge.

"Nico, I'm going to let you out a block away, okay?" Charlie said. "Your friends should be waking up soon, and the three of you'll have to walk the rest of the way. I don't want any cameras catching me releasing three psychics onto the streets."

Nico looked out the window nervously. "Aren't there cameras out here?" He asked. Charlie shot him a smile.

"Sure, but I know where the blind spots are." He said with a wink.

Charlie pulled into a vacant alleyway, quickly stepping out of the van. Nico followed suit.

Charlie yanked the back door open, revealing a blinking Toby. His eyes flared open in fear before he recognized Nico.

"Nico!" He called out weakly, his voice barely more than a whimper.

"It's okay, Toby." Nico said, walking into the small cell. "He's a friend. He helped us get here."

"Where's here?" Toby asked groggily.

"The Winchesters." Nico said. "Just a little further, Toby. I promise."

"Okay," Toby whispered, and started to haul himself to his feet. Nico felt his heart shine with pride at the young boy's determination, and helped Toby stand.

Nico heard a groan, and looked down to see Mariana shifting. He quickly knelt down, touching his hand to her forehead. She seemed a little cooler, and it seemed that the aspirin he'd given her a few hours ago was finally kicking in. Still, her forehead was much hotter than he'd like it to be.

"Nico…?" She whispered weakly, her eyelids fluttering.

"It's okay, Mare." Nico murmured. "Just relax. You're okay."

Charlie leaned in. "Everything okay in here?"

"We're fine," Nico growled at him. Charlie caught sight of Mariana, and he seemed to lean closer, looking at her carefully.

"Is she okay?" Charlie asked as Nico scooped her up in his arms. Mariana moaned slightly, gritting her teeth to stifle the noise.

"Hey, Nico, slow down," Charlie stepped back as Nico jumped out of the van, trying to soften the impact as much as possible. Mariana still yelped, and clenched a hand against his t-shirt. Charlie stepped forward, placing a hand against Nico's shoulder. Nico froze, taking care to check his temper, considering he was holding a close friend in his arms.

"Charlie, take your hand off me if you want to keep it," Nico threatened in a low voice. He looked back to see where Toby was, and sighed inwardly when he saw the teen shuffling along somewhat unsteadily, trailing a hand along the wall as if to balance himself.

"Toby, this way." He called, and Toby's head bobbed up. He tried to hurry, but just ended up unbalancing himself. His foot caught as he reached the edge, and Toby sailed out of the door, toward the ground.

"Toby!" Nico lurched forward, all too aware that his hands were full, when Charlie reached out and caught Toby easily.

"Nico, let me help you," Charlie pleaded. "Three kids and an adult won't look so suspicious, but if you go down that street carrying an unconscious girl with your friend stumbling around like a drunk behind you, people are going to notice."

Nico scrutinized Charlie's expression. He seemed to be sincere, and Nico knew he needed the help. But still… It was hard for him to trust this man that he barely knew.

"C'mon, Nico." Charlie said. "Please let me help you."

Finally, Nico sighed. "Fine. But I swear, if you make me regret this, I'll make sure that you go through the rest of your life looking like a wax statue left out too long in the sun." Charlie winced at the visual, and then nodded.

"Fair enough." He took hold of Toby's arm. "One more thing." Charlie crossed to the front of the van again, and pulled out three bundles of clothes. "Change into these." He ordered, placing them in the van. "You won't get thirty feet in those getups."

Quickly, Nico changed into the new clothes, and helped Mariana, who was mostly conscious now, pull on her new clothes. Toby changed after them, and then they left the van, walking down the street. Nico was dressed in a pair of jeans, dark t-shirt, and plain hoodie. Nothing that would attract attention. In his arms, Mariana had on a white t-shirt, jeans, and a jacket decked with different girly symbols. Toby trailed behind them, wearing yet another pair of jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie. Green this time. Charlie, in turn, merely pulled off his uniform, revealing a set of casual clothes underneath.

As they walked toward the Winchesters house, Mariana fell asleep again in Nico's arms. He tried to smooth out his stride, so as not to disturb her, and smiled at her peaceful expression.

_She's kinda cute when she's sleeping. _Nico startled himself with the thought, and shook his head. Mariana had always seemed like a younger sister to him, not someone he'd ever be interested in _that _way… But then again, that was a different world. A world where he had more to worry about than getting a girlfriend.

If he did end up going to this "friend" of his fathers, and they were safe...what would that mean for him? Would he be able to...what? Ask Mariana out? The thought made him want to laugh at himself. He didn't think she'd honestly be interested. But still… the idea that he _could…_ It made him smile.

Nico felt a hand on his shoulder, and he stopped. Charlie nodded to the house on their right.

"There it is." He said. "Shall we?"

Charlie let Nico take the lead, walking behind him a few paces to the Winchesters front door. Nico shifted Mariana in his arms so that he could ring the doorbell, and hesitated.

"What do I say?" He asked Charlie.

Charlie shrugged. "I don't know, kid. This was your idea."

Nico huffed, and turned away, ringing the doorbell before he lost the courage. He heard a dog barking inside, and a few voices shouting in response.

After a moment, the door opened, and a large man stood before them, wearing a suspicious face. He looked at the four, his eyes lingering on Mariana with a look of concern.

"Can I help you?" He asked. Not unkindly, just with a note of caution.

"Are you John Winchester?" Nico asked, and he couldn't help the hopeful tone to his voice. If they had come all this way for nothing…

"Yes, that's me." John said gruffly. "What's this about?"

Nico paused, looking back at Charlie, who shrugged. He looked back at John and straightened his shoulders. "My name is Nico Tanero. And this is about Sam."

* * *

Sam was leaning against the cold bars of his cage. The containment room was silent, only Max's occasional whimpers breaking the quiet. Sam could hear Ava's whispered assurances to him, trying to offer some comfort.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and a single figure stepped inside. Sam jolted up, his heart pounding painfully.

Mr. Pearson grinned cruelly at the room of children, before snapping his fingers. Four men and four women flanked him, walking quickly toward the children's cages.

"It's nearly sunset, children." Mr. Pearson said ominously. "The hour of reckoning is upon us."

Sam pressed against the back of his cage as a large man crouched in front of him. The man grabbed the padlock securing his door shut and wrenched it completely off with one tug. He reached into the cage, grabbing Sam's leg. Sam shouted as the man began to drag him out of the cage. He could hear others yelling and scrabbling for a handhold as the men and women pulled them from the cages.

Sam kicked out with the other leg, connecting with the man's hand and arm, but the man showed no reaction. He just stared at Sam, pulling him closer.

The man cleared Sam of the cage with one last tug, and hauled him to his feet. He gripped the back of Sam's neck tightly, forcing him forward. As they walked out of the room, Sam saw Ansem and Jake walking with them as well. Jake was striding confidently forward, his escort close behind. Ansem's escort had one hand tightly gripping his upper arm.

As they turned down a hallway, Sam caught sight of a nearly limp form being carried along by another man. Sam froze in shock when he saw Andrew, eyes closed, skin pale. The man holding him shoved him forward, grumbling angrily.

Ansem turned for a moment, and caught sight of his brother. He made a choking noise, and lunged for his brother, shouting desperately. His escort wrenched him back, and took a more firm hold on his shoulders and neck. Ansem struggled, teeth gritted, but didn't manage to get anywhere.

The children were all marched down a long hallway, and through a set of double doors. Inside was a small room resembling a basement or bunker. The floor was smooth concrete, and the walls were made of the same material. There were torches in the corners of the room, offering shady, flickering light to the room. One small window shone up at the top corner of the room.

On the floor was a perverse mockery of the Devil's Trap. It was a painted circle on the floor with a pentagram in the middle, but the symbols around the star were all wrong. Sam had lived with many, many hunters in his time, and he had caught glimpses of Devil's Traps, as well as the corresponding symbols that went with it. And these were definitely _not_ the right symbols.

The closer he got, he also realized that the star was off as well. There were seven points on this star, rather than the usual five. Sam noted small metal rings attached to the floor at each of the points of the star.

The man holding Sam halted, bringing Sam to a stop. The rest marched their captives past, walking to a point on the star. Sam watched as the children were pushed to their knees, and a chain fastened around their wrists, tethering them to the ring bolted to the floor.

"Now, bring him forward." Pearson ordered. Sam's captor shoved him forward, and walked him to the center of the star. Sam felt a thrill of fear when he saw the ring bolted to the floor in the exact center of the giant star.

The man pushed him to his knees, and chained him to the ring. Sam looked around the circle. Ava sat directly in front of him, tears running down her face. To her right, Scott sat stoically, jaw tense. Sam could see his hands trembling, though he was trying to conceal it. Sitting on Ava's other side, Max was visibly shaking, rocking back and forth slightly. Sam felt his heart lurch. He knew that Max had been here the longest, at least a week or so.

Ansem was staring fearfully at the other side of the circle, presumably at his brother. Sam couldn't see Andrew, but knew he wasn't doing well. Sam wasn't sure what had been going on here. Ava hadn't been willing to recount the horrors, and no one else had really felt like talking. However, Sam knew that whatever torture had been occurring had been worse for Andrew. He looked emaciated, like a walking corpse. The only thing that indicated he was still alive was the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

"Did you know that the seven pointed star stood for protection? Safety? Love?" Pearson walked up next to Sam. He sneered down at him, his eyes full of bloodlust and anger. "It represented the perfection of _God _and the creation of the first seven days." He spat. "Now, it will stand for something better. The rise of a better god, a better age."

Sam's blood chilled. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll see." Pearson smirked. "I will finally finish what I started nine years ago. The rise of a more glorious god. _My _god."

Something tickled the back of Sam's mind. Something he had heard about….years and years ago….his parents had been scared….police had gotten involved….all over the TV….

"Levi Harper," Sam whispered. He looked up at his social worker. "You… You tried…"

Harper/Pearson threw his head back and laughed. "You were always a smart one, Sam. So snarky, so uppity, so convinced that you were better than the system." His expression turned bitter and angry. "Why should you get to live when my god was forced into submission? You were created so that he could live! That was your sole purpose!" Pearson spat at him.

Sam tried to get to his feet, but the chains kept him kneeling on the ground. "Is this the only way you can feel powerful? By tying up and bunch of kids and putting them in cages?"

A horrid smile slid across Pearson's face. "We had more fun than that, didn't we?" He turned to the other children, crouching down in front of Max. Max whimpered, trying to back away. Pearson reached out toward him, and Max cried out, collapsing on the ground.

"We had so much fun." Pearson said, a cruel smile twisting his face. Ava cried silently next to Max, tears running down her face. He turned back to Sam, ignoring the crying children behind him.

"Though I guess you missed out on that, didn't you?" Pearson said with oily sympathy, treachery gleaming in his eyes. "That's too bad."

Sam watched Pearson carefully. He could see an idea forming behind his eyes, and a manic glee seemed to take over him. He cackled suddenly, walking quickly past Sam. Sam craned his head over his shoulder to keep the man in his line of sight, and felt his stomach drop when Pearson picked up a long object that was leaning against the wall.

"You know what this item is called, Sam?" Pearson asked, gazing thoughtfully at the slender, pole-like object.

Sam kept quiet, trying to calm his thundering heart, adrenaline and fear racing through his veins.

"There are many names for it, but the most common would be 'cattle prod'. Not as precise, perhaps, as Gene's fancy gadgets, but will serve essentially the same purpose." Pearson's gaze snapped up to Sam's face.

Sam fought to maintain an emotionless face, but he could feel his terror leaking out to show in his eyes. Pearson smiled satisfactorily, seeing his fear.

"Well, we've got a few hours before it's time…" Pearson said, walking forward. The tip of the prod sparked ominously. "Let's see if we can show Sammy the fun that we had..."

* * *

"That's how we ended up here." Nico stopped talking long enough to take a long drink from the glass of water in front of him. He managed to drain it, and Mary swooped in to pick it up. She quickly filled it again at the sink, and placed it in front of him.

John stood in front of where Nico was seated in their kitchen. Mariana, Toby, and Charlie were waiting in the family room, with Dean. He could hear Charlie quietly explaining to Dean, with Toby occasionally breaking in to provide some detail or another.

"So, you said that Sam was taken by two men?" John finally asked after a moment.

Nico nodded wordlessly, already taking a swallow from the newly refilled glass. He set the glass down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"He seemed to know them." Nico said. "And he didn't like them."

John and Mary exchanged a glance, looking uneasy. Mary looked back to Nico. "You said your friend is hurt?" She asked.

Nico gazed at her shrewdly for a moment, trying to assess her motives. He nodded slowly, standing up and leading them to where Mariana was lying motionless on the couch. He lifted the edge of her shirt, and Mary gasped. Nico even heard Dean's sharp intake of breath. John was the only one who didn't react. As a hunter, Nico guessed he had seen much worse.

"She needs to be at a hospital," Mary decided. "Now."

Nico felt a flash of panic set his heart racing and spun around, spreading his arms wide to block Mariana from them. "No!" He cried. "Don't touch her!"

Everyone froze, watching him carefully. Nico noticed Dean staring at his hands in disbelief. One glance showed him that small flames danced over his fingers, light as the flare on a candle. He clenched his hands once, and watched as the fire dissipated.

"Nico, sweetie, she needs medical attention." Mary said in a gentle voice. Nico closed his eyes for a moment, trying to control the tidal wave of emotion that washed over him when she spoke like that. She sounded like his mother, so kind and tender, but with a strength that wasn't always seen at first.

"They'll find her," Nico said desperately. "They'll take her back, and they'll _kill _her!"

The room was silent for a moment. "Nico…?" The murmur was so soft, he almost didn't hear it. It came again, quiet and confused.

"Nico…?"

Nico turned back to her, sinking to his knees. "It's okay, Mare, I'm here," He promised. "You're safe now."

Mariana blinked a few times, her eyes coming back into focus for the first time in days. She looked up at him and smiled. Nico realized that he was holding her hand desperately. Embarrassed, he started to pull away, but he felt her grip tighten, holding his hand back. He looked at her, and allowed a rare smile to light his face.

"Can you help me sit up?" She asked softly, and Nico hesitated. He placed a hand on her forehead, and she felt much cooler than before. Still, he could tell she was nowhere near healthy yet.

"Please," Mariana whispered, and Nico relented. He helped her up, supporting most of her weight.

"Mariana!" Toby squealed, and ran over. He jumped up next to her, clasping his arms around her neck. "I thought you were gonna die." He said sadly, holding her tightly.

"I'm okay." Mariana said with wince. "Just tired." She looked over at Nico, and another smile lit her face. She reached over, entwining their fingers together.

"Dad." Nico heard Dean say. He looked up, and saw Dean staring out the window, worry clear in his eyes. A red hue was the last source of light in the quickly falling dusk. "The sunset's almost over."

"I know, Dean." John rumbled. "But the spell won't be able to be cast until the moon rises completely off the horizon."

"So…" Dean looked out the window again, judging. "In about an hour?"

"Roughly." John agreed. He turned to the three children on the couch again. "Is there anything else that you can tell us? About where they might have gone?"

Nico shook his head. They'd already told them everything. He felt a flash of despair. Whatever John had said about a spell hadn't sounded good, and Sam and Lily were caught right in the middle of it. He wished they had been able to catch names.

"Wait…" Mariana said, furrowing her brow. "When they were taken, I remember…"

"What?" Dean asked eagerly, stepping forward.

"I heard...one of them thinking. He was very loud, thinking rude things about the other man." Mariana said, looking up. "I tried to focus on his voice, and he thought something about...'Gene not being able to do anything right'." She remembered. "Does that help?"

"Gene?" Mary spoke up, frowning. "That's the name of the counselor that Mr. Pearson suggested for us. Gene Neville."

John turned away for a moment, considering the new information.

"Well?" Dean said impatiently. "What are we waiting for? Let's go hunt this guy down!"

"Dean, we don't have time for trial and error." John warned. "We have to guess the right location the first time." John crossed the floor to his computer, turning it on. He switched to a search engine, and quickly typed in a search request.

Nico looked down at Mariana. Her eyelids were drooping again, and she slumped against his shoulder. He gently eased her down again, and kept a light hold on her hand. After a minute or two, John straightened.

"This Neville character doesn't own much." He informed them. "Just his office, a small apartment, and a storage unit downtown. Pearson owns even less. Just a motel room that he rents nightly."

"They'd have to be keeping the children in a place that Neville owns, then." Mary deduced. "Neville couldn't set all this up in his apartment. He couldn't risk having one of his neighbors hear the commotion."

Dean piped up. "What about the storage unit?"

John shook his head. "It's too small, and records show that he hasn't been there in over two months."

"So that leaves his office." Mary decided. John was already back at the computer, searching again. He turned back to the family, face grim.

"I'd say office is our best bet." John agreed. "One month ago, Neville finished building a sub-level to his office. Pretty shady, and the paperwork was incomplete."

"Let's go!" Dean urged, already heading for the door.

For once, John didn't disagree. He just followed his son, turning back to Mary at the last minute. "Take her to the hospital." He said, pointing at Mariana. He glanced at Charlie. "Watch the other two."

With that, he shut the door. They heard the Impala roar to a start, and speed out of the driveway. Nico turned to Mary in a panic.

"Please, don't," He protested. "They'll take her!"

"Sweetie, I won't let that happen." Mary promised. "I'll figure something out. But at this point, if Mariana doesn't go to the hospital, she'll die."

Nico turned back to Mariana, feeling desperate and afraid. "You can't die." He murmured, closing his eyes. Finally, he opened them, looking back up at Mary. "I'll go with you."

Mary hesitated. "Nico, I don't think that would be safe."

"But…" He protested, trailing off.

Charlie piped up. "Just wait here, Nico. Mary'll keep her safe."

"Fine." Nico agreed reluctantly, and helped Mary carry Mariana out to the car. He got her settled in the front seat, and buckled her seat belt.

Mary slid into the driver's seat, and fired up the engine. Nico was pulling away when he felt Mariana grip his hand. He looked down, and her eyes were open. She smiled weakly at him, and tugged him closer. It seemed like she was trying to whisper something, so Nico ducked closer. He felt her lips touch his cheek, quick and soft, like the wings of a butterfly. He pulled back, shocked for a moment, and she smiled up at him, her cheeks pink.

Nico smiled, leaning down and placing a kiss on her cheek. "Come back," He said, his words somewhere between a plea and an order.

"I will." Mariana promised softly. "Stay safe."

"I'll do my best." Nico responded with a wry smile.

"I guess that's all I can hope for with you." Mariana cracked, and leaned her head back, energy exhausted. Nico shut the door of the car, and watched as it pulled out of the driveway.

Nico felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest. Sam and Lily were gone. Taken by some psychopath for some psychotic spell. Bad enough that they might be gone. Dead. Mariana couldn't be taken from him, too.

_She'll come back. _Nico promised himself. _She has to._

* * *

Sam screamed as Pearson pressed the prod to his skin again. His muscles spasmed, and his side burned. He lay panting on the ground, sweat covering his forehead and dripping into his eyes. His hands still tingled with the horrible feeling of electricity, and things were blurring in front of his eyes.

No wonder Max had lost his mind.

Sam wasn't sure that he could handle much more of this. Either he'd pass out, or his heart would completely give out. Sam found himself wishing that it would just happen already.

The prod connected with his shoulder this time, and Sam screamed, his back arching to escape the horrible agony.

"I'm sorry, Sam. Are you uncomfortable? Aren't you enjoying yourself?" Pearson asked maliciously. "Because I am."

He thrust the prod forward, crudely shoving against Sam's leg. Sam moaned, no longer having the energy to scream.

"All those years, relocating you, send you from home to home, carting you from here to there." Pearson's face twisted in anger. "And you _never quit complaining._" Another stab, another moan.

"Always asking about Daniel, how he was, when you could see him. Even after he died, you wanted to know if you could go to the funeral, if you could visit the grave, if you could see the headstone." A small note of satisfaction entered his voice. "Which I never let you do, did I? Probably the only good decision I made concerning you. I should have sent you to a camp straight away, but knowing you, you'd be dead within the first day."

The door opened, and Dr. Neville entered. He frowned at the scene, his brows pulling together in a look of concern. "Jeffrey, the moon has risen. It's time."

Pearson straightened, rolling his shoulders. He tossed the prod to one of the men standing to the side, who caught it easily in one hand. Sam looked at the collection of men and women. Who were they? How could they have such hatred that they weren't bothered by the torture of a child right in front of them? A woman caught him looking at her, and a small smile tugged at her lips. Before Sam could look away, she blinked, and her eyes filled with a darkness the color of ink. Sam barely held in a gasp. Demons. They were all demons.

"Very well." Pearson said, walking out of the circle. He smiled evilly at Sam. "I hope you're ready Sam, because that was nothing compared to what will hit you in a few minutes."

"What are you going to do?" Lily asked in a tight voice. "We have a right to know."

"You have no rights!" Pearson spat, taking a threatening step toward her. "You are lower than dirt."

Lily stared him down, only her trembling fingers betraying a sign of her fear. Pearson glared at her for a moment, and seemed to calm. He took a step back, facing the whole circle. "Very well," he said in an oddly even voice. "If you must know." He looked around the circle of children, looking almost eager to reveal his genius.

"We are raising a very powerful god." Pearson said, excitement in his voice. "He will take over the world, with you as his army."

Lily's eyes widened fearfully, along with everyone else's in the circle. Pearson fixed his gaze on Sam again, and a note of satisfaction gleamed in his expression.

"Of course, he needs a physical form." Pearson said, as if it were obvious. "Sammy here will do the honors."

Sam's stomach dropped.

"We'll never help him!" Ansem shouted angrily. "You can't make us!"

"Au contraire." Pearson said, turning to face Ansem. "He won't find it difficult to control you, considering that you are all connected to him, in a very personal way." A smirk wormed it's way onto his face. "You might even say you were 'blood relatives'." Pearson laughed, and shook his head, laughing at his own joke.

One of the demons stepped forward, holding a book. He handed it to Pearson, who opened the dusty cover. He began reading in a low voice, the language harsh and old.

Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped. Every breath that Same let out was a cloud of heat in the freezing room. He tugged on the chains shackling his wrists, but they held tight. No one tried to stop him.

_Probably because they know it will never work. _Sam realized, and halted his efforts. He looked up, and saw the saw his terror reflected in Ava's eyes, in Lily's eyes, Scott's eyes, and even in Ansem's eyes. Jake was the only one that didn't look afraid. Anticipation and excitement filled his eyes instead.

Suddenly, a strong wind picked up around Sam, picking up the dust that lay on the floor. A whirlwind started to spin, getting stronger and faster. Pearson raised his voice to be heard through the wind.

The wind began to feel as if it was pushing against Sam. He closed his eyes against the grit flying the air, and found it hard to breathe. Every time he opened his mouth, rushing air filled his lungs, stealing the breath before he could even take it. Sam began to choke, unable to breathe properly.

_**Let me in. **_A great, powerful voice commanded in his head. Sam resisted, pushing back against the unknown force. He felt something bending his will, and he resisted, shoving back.

The force seemed to laugh. _**Don't fight me, Sam. I'm your family. I've known you since you were a child. **_

A sudden memory took Sam by surprise. The memory wasn't his, however.

_He was looking down at a baby, sleeping peacefully in it's crib. Somehow Sam knew that it was him, as an infant. _

_He lifted his hands forward, and a knife was in his grasp. He pressed the blade into his palm, and a small slice of pain cut through his skin. Blood welled up in the cut, and Sam felt a smile pass across his face. He turned his hand, and a bead of blood dropped from his hand. _

_It fell, down, down, down into the small baby's mouth. Instinctually, the baby swallowed, turning fretfully in it's sleep. Sam reached down, stroking the baby's head fondly. _

"_**Sleep well, Sam.**__" Sam said, and his voice matched the same one in his head. "__**Grow up big and strong and powerful. Someday I will return for you.**__" _

Sam snapped back to the present, even more out of breath. _Azazel. _He thought. _It's you. _

_**Of course it's me, Sam. I would never leave you on your own. **_

Sam gritted his teeth. _Get out of my head. _

_**Sam, I can't leave. I've barely begun. **_

_GET OUT! _Sam shouted, and shoved the demon as far away as he could. The effort made him dizzy, but he felt the pressure decrease slightly, and the demon's voice faded, if only for a moment.

When the voice returned, it was more forceful, almost angry.

_**If you won't LET me in, Sam, I'll have to use extreme measures. Just remember that you brought this on yourself. **_

The swirling wind around Sam thickened, becoming dark, like storm clouds. Lightning flickered, and thunder rumbled. Sam felt the air pressure drop around him, and dread settled in his stomach for a moment.

There was a loud crack, and lightning stabbed through the air. It hit Sam square in the chest, and pure shock split through his body.

This was worse than Pearson's insignificant zaps. Those were walks in the park compared to this. Every cell was on fire, every nerve ending exploding in agony. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't feel anything except for the unending pain that never stopped.

He could feel a darkness pressing against the back of his mind, as if trying to enter. Part of his mind wanted to push it away, but Sam couldn't remember why. He couldn't focus on anything long enough to care. He just wanted this pain to stop. He let the darkness in, and it flooded through his limbs, filling them with ice.

Sam relaxed. The burning was gone, the agony no longer there. The darkness coated everything in a layer of cold, and it was almost relaxing, this numbness. Sam knew, however, that something was wrong. He felt a sense of revulsion, as if something horrid had just happened. And guilt weighed in his chest, as if whatever had happened was his fault.

_**No, Sam. This is a good thing. Trust me. **_

Horror shot through Sam. No. He couldn't have… What had he done?

_**Something wonderful, Sam. We will make a very good team. **_

The wind died around Sam, and the chains fell from his wrists. Azazel stood up, and Sam felt a confident smile spread over his face. Azazel looked around the circle, and Sam saw Ava, Scott, Lily, and Ansem staring fearfully up at him. Azazel looked up and Sam caught his reflection in the window. His iris' shone bright yellow.

_No! _Sam cried. _No, I didn't want this!  
_

_**You wanted the pain to stop. And I stopped it. There were just a few, ah...strings attached. **_

_Get out of my head! _Sam shouted, and tried to push against the demon's will, but it was like shoving a cement wall.

_**No, Sam. Really, it's OUR head now. And I don't plan to leave for quite a while. **_

Suddenly the door crashed open, and two figures stumbled in, armed to the teeth. Dean lifted the shotgun and fired at the demons standing by the wall, their eyes black as night. It hit a woman in the stomach, and she growled, curling away.

"Back off!" Dean shouted. He caught sight of Sam, and his face brightened for a moment, before falling. The gun clattered to the floor. "No…" He whispered. "Sammy…"

Sam could feel Azazel's slight irritation at the intrusion. But then came the amusement. As if this were all a game, and a new piece had just been introduced.

"Hello, Dean. Nice to finally meet you." Azazel said. It was still Sam's voice, but it resonated with something older, something more powerful. More evil. "Sam has so many pretty memories of you. Some of his happiest, actually. I'm glad you took care of my plaything while I was away."

Dean seemed unable to respond, staring at Sam in horror. John was unshaken.

"Pick up the gun, Dean." He ordered. His next words were aimed at the demon. "Let Sam go, or you'll have Hell to deal with."

Azazel smiled. "I already have Hell, Johnny. And it's on my side." He gestured to the demons still clustered by the wall, awaiting his orders. Azazel raised his hand, and the chains fell away from the seven children's wrists.

Sam felt Azazel push his will, and the children lurched to their feet. Andrew was still limp, as if he were a puppet on a string, some unseen force holding him aloft. Jake smiled, willingly following the orders.

_**Come, my children. **_Azazel's voice resonated out, and the children flinched as his voice entered their minds. _**Fulfill your destiny. **_

"NO!" Ansem shouted. "I won't follow you!"

Azazel spun, and Sam felt real anger simmering under the surface. "You will obey." Azazel commanded, and he held out a hand, slowly closing his fingers as if crushing something. Ansem began to choke, his eyes crazed with pain.

Azazel released him, and Ansem didn't say any more. Satisfaction glowed within him, and Sam pushed away the emotion that threatened to disguise itself as his.

_I don't want this. _He reminded himself. _This isn't me. _

_**It's as good as you, Sam. We are one. You will lead these children into battle, conquer the world. We will burn away this civilization, this failure. We can build a better world. One where your kind don't have to hide away, aren't hunted and belittled and KILLED. **_

The offer sat in front of Sam, shiny and wonderful. What if he could change everything? Make it better? Children wouldn't be taken from their parents. Powers wouldn't be hidden. They would be celebrated. Psychics would be, _should be,_ appreciated. Worshipped.

_No. _Sam denied. _That's not me. _Azazel's lies were bleeding into his thoughts, staining his choices.

_**It could be you, Sam. We both want the same thing. You can't hide from me, Sam. We share a mind. I know what you wish. You wish Daniel alive again. You wish for psychics freedom. You wish for the blood of those that wronged you and every other psychic. **_

Truth rang through his statement. But just as Sam could not hide his deepest thoughts from the demon, Azazel's thoughts were not sacred. They leaked into Sam's conciousness, revealing the truth.

The new world would be one of fear. Of chaos. Of death, and sickness, and pain. Demons would reign. Humans would suffer, cowering on the earth while everything burned around them. Children screamed, mothers cried, fathers withered. It would truly be Hell on Earth.

_I will never support you. _Sam snarled. _And I will fight you every step of the way. _

Azazel's voice took on a steely edge. _**Very well, Sam. If you insist on insolence, I must teach you a lesson. **_He faced the two hunters, still standing at an impasse. _**How long do you think it will take for Dean's flesh to melt of his form? For his organs to boil? For his bones to disintegrate? **_

_NO! _Horror washed through Sam. _NOOO!_

Azazel raised his hand, and something in Sam snapped. He felt himself shove against the will of Azazel, and still met the wall. But this time, Sam shoved harder, focusing all of his anger and fury on the presence residing in his head.

_**What are you doing, Sam? **_Azazel's voice held a note of warning. _**Stop this! Now! **_

Sam shoved again, and he felt the cold pull out of his limbs, gathering in his head. The cold intensified.

_**Sam, you will stop this now. I order you. STOP! **_

_You will never hurt Dean, or John, or anyone else. _Sam said. _Shut up, and GET OUT OF MY HEAD! _

The cold force blew out of his lungs, and Sam screamed as the demon pulled out of his head. He collapsed to the ground, and could vaguely hear shouts and running. Sam tried to push himself to his feet, but he couldn't even raise to his knees.

He heard shots being fired, and people screaming and shouting, but it was muted. Every breath that Sam took ached and rattled in his chest.

_Dean… _Sam thought faintly. _Have to help… _

His chest stabbed with pain, and a different darkness threatened to pull him down, covering his eyes with black.

Suddenly, he felt hands on his shoulders. "Sammy?"

_Dean… _Sam whimpered.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean said breathlessly. "You're going to be okay. I'm here."

_Dean…? I can't see… _

"Just hang on, Sammy." Dean begged. "It's going to be okay."

_Dean… _The world started to fade, and Sam fought to stay afloat, but he sank anyway, falling to the abyss. Dean's words rang in his ears.

"Sammy? Sammy, please, no. No!"

* * *

**Oh, dear…. I'm really a horrible person, aren't I? **

**I told a few people that this would be the last chapter, and it kind of is… But there will be an epilogue. Don't worry. : ) I'll have it up when I can. **

**Please review, and tell me what you thought. I'd love to hear your opinion. Sorry for the length, but I started...and then I couldn't stop. Oops? : /**

**Cheers! **


	20. Epilogue

**Chapter 20 - Epilogue**

* * *

**I would like to end the story with an ending, not more authors notes, so I'm going to write this at the beginning instead. Hope you understand. : )**

**This story has been a blast to write. It's one of the few that I am truly proud of, every chapter and every word, and I have all of you to thank for that. This is also the first story that has gotten over 100 reviews, and that really makes me stoked! I'm so glad that you all enjoyed it that much, and I want you to know that every single one of those reviews helped keep me motivated with the story. **

**I hope this wraps everything up for you, but I was also thinking of continuing with a sequel… Let me know if you'd be interested. I left it with a pretty good ending, so if you want to just leave it as a one story wonder, that's an option for you. **

**Just in case it wasn't clear enough, this is the last chapter of this story. :'( But, that just means that I'll be starting a new project, whether it's the sequel, or something entirely new… Keep an eye out! **

**Without further adieu, please enjoy!**

* * *

_Sam was floating in darkness._

_His head felt heavy, his thoughts slow. All around him was complete and utter dark, a black like ink. Sam tried to move, but couldn't. He was frozen. _

Am I dead? _He wondered vaguely, too confused to feel any fear. _

_**No, Sam. You aren't dead. **_

_Sam felt his heart thump painfully. _You're gone. I banished you.

_**Banished is such a powerful word, Sam. You merely… kicked me out. Doesn't mean I don't still have a key. **_

_Adrenaline rushed through Sam's body. The heaviness slowly leaked from Sam's limbs, and his mind started to clear. _

_**Very good, Sam. Wake up. I'll find you again eventually.**_

Sam's eyes shot open, and he immediately tried to pull in a breath. His lungs resisted, and he felt something blocking his airway. Sam started to choke, tears rushing to his eyes.

"Sammy?" A bleary voice said, sounding shocked. The lights clicked on, and Dean came into view. He had deep bags under his eyes, and looked like he hadn't slept in days. Sam tried to call out, and panicked when he couldn't make a sound.

"Calm down, Sammy." Dean urged, placing his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Relax. There's a machine doing the work for you, okay? Just relax."

Sam stopped struggling for breath. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of being starved for air. After a moment, he saw that Dean was right. He felt air being pushed in and out of his lungs, still much too slow for his liking.

"There you go." Sam opened his eyes to see a smile on Dean's face. "It's nice to see you awake, Sammy."

Sam grunted, trying to speak. Dean grabbed the chair that he'd been sleeping on from the corner of the room, and dragged it over to Sam's bed. Sam stared at Dean, trying to portray his confusion with his eyes.

Dean chuckled at Sam's expression. "You want to know what happened?" He guessed, and Sam blinked, indicating he was right.

"Right, well…" Dean hesitated. "You went into a coma, Sam. After you...expelled Azazel, or whatever, you collapsed. There was general chaos, everyone running around and freaking out. All of the demons ran straight back to Hell after they saw what you did."

Sam had so many questions running through his head, and he had no way to express any of them. Sam grunted again, this time from frustration.

Dean looked around, and grabbed the clipboard off the end of Sam's bed. He placed it on the bed next to Sam's hand, and pressed the pen into his hand. Sam gripped the pen tightly, and scribbled out the word, trying to watch his hand move out of the corner of his eye.

_AZAZEL? _

Dean looked up. He looked worried. "Sammy...no one really knows what happened. You pushed him out, and he just kind of…disappeared. Who knows? Maybe he was sent back to Hell." But Dean's expression revealed how much stock he put in this theory.

Sam shuddered, remembering his dream. He seriously doubted that Azazel had been sent to Hell. But at the same time, he could tell that Azazel was no longer in his head. So where was he?

Sam pushed the thought from his head. He had other things to worry about.

_OTHERS? _

Dean smiled. "Those kids are tough. The kids that we found with you are staying with us for a while. So are Nico and Toby."

Sam's brow furrowed as he thought.

_MARIANA? _

The smile fell from Dean's face. For a second, Sam's heart seemed to stop, though the monitor watching his pulse didn't agree. Dean caught Sam's expression, and quickly raised a hand.

"No, Sammy, she's okay. She's here." Dean said. Sam frowned, still confused, and Dean tried to elaborate. "She got shot somehow, and the wound was infected. Mom brought her up here the day we came to rescue you. The doctors say she'll be okay."

Relief rushed through Sam. He pressed the tip of the pen to the paper again.

_SEE HER? _

Dean cocked his head, thinking for a moment. "I'm not sure. We'd have to ask your doctor, and hers. Probably Mom and Dad, too."

Sam raised his eyebrows, waiting for Dean to continue. Dean took one look at his face, and sighed.

"Jeez, Sam, lay off on the puppy dog eyes, okay? I'll ask." He said, feigning irritation.

The door cracked open, and Mary leaned her head in. "Dean…" She murmured, and her eyes widened when she saw Sam's eyes open.

Dean turned and smiled at his mother. "Hey, Mom. Guess who's up?"

* * *

The next morning the doctors took out the tube that was regulating Sam's breathing. They warned him to take it easy and drink water, and they let him sit up.

As John used the remote controlling his bed to angle it upwards, Sam noticed something on his arm. On the inside of his right arm a curious looking scar ran across his skin. It looked like the design of some kind of tree or vine, with lines branching out from other lines. It wrapped around his forearm, extending a line to the back of his hand. Sam followed the scar up his arm, and saw that the branching pattern disappeared under the sleeve of his hospital gown. If he had to guess, Sam thought that it probably ran all the way to the center of his chest.

"It's called a Lichtenberg scar," John said, noticing what Sam was looking at. "People get it after being struck by lightning."

"Does it go away?" Sam asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Normally," John murmured, but his tone revealed what he was thinking. None of this was normal.

Mary returned to Sam's room, closing the door behind her. She smiled at Dean, dozing lightly in the chair, and walked to Sam's side.

"What did they say?" Sam asked eagerly.

Mary laughed at his expression. "They agreed that you could see Mariana."

Sam grinned, and started to swing his legs over the side of the bed. Mary planted a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"They also said, however, that you have to ride over in a wheelchair." Mary said firmly, already predicting the stubbornness this would provoke.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. I can walk."

Dean stirred in his seat, sitting up and fixing a blatant look on Sam. "Sam, you woke up from a three-day coma _yesterday_. You can ride in a freaking wheelchair."

Sam rolled his eyes again, but didn't protest when John rolled the chair over. Despite what Sam had thought, he needed both John and Mary's aid to make it the few steps to the chair, and lower himself carefully in.

Mary insisted on pushing the wheelchair, and John let her, understanding her need to be in control of something. She'd almost lost both her sons just three days ago. Dean walked alongside Sam, pointing out some of the hot nurses that had been taking care of Sam while he'd been sleeping.

Mary paused in front of a closed door. She pulled a card out of her pocket, and slid it into a slot on the door handle. When she pulled it back out, there was a small beep, and a green light flashed on the handle. Mary pushed down the door handle, opening the door.

"It's a key," Mary said in explanation to Sam, who had a look of confusion on his face. "Psychic's rooms… They're kept locked."

Sam nodded, and looked away, anger simmering in his stomach. With all that had happened recently, he'd almost forgotten what being in the regular world was like. With it's prejudice, and it's judgement, and it's intolerance. Of _course_ Mariana's room was kept locked. If not, she'd probably rampage through the hospital, breathing fire and tearing people limb from limb with her mind. All with a gunshot wound, no less. Sam wouldn't be surprised if people actually believed it.

His irritation slipped away when he saw Mariana sleeping in her bed. Her skin was pale, but she was sleeping peacefully. An IV was taped to her arm. As they approached, Mariana's eyes flickered open. She looked over at the new arrivals, and her face brightened.

Mary pushed Sam over next to her. "Hey, Mariana," She said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," Mariana said softly. "Do the doctors know when I can go home?"

Mary shook her head regretfully. "They aren't sure. A few more days, most likely." Mariana nodded, looking down at her blanket.

There was a moment of silence, and then Mary took a few steps back. "I'll wait outside, alright?" She ushered the other two men outside, and pulled the door shut.

"Mary has been very kind." Mariana began. "She stayed with me when we first got here."

Sam frowned. "Mariana, if you're here, Vanector will find you. She'll take you back."

"She already found me." Mariana admitted, looking up shyly.

Sam gripped the arms of his chair, leaning forward. "What? But then...why didn't she...how are you…?"

Mariana looked up sheepishly. "Like I said, Mary has been very kind. I told her about the things that Vanector used to do us. Sending us to bed without dinner, beating us, selling us. Mary called the police. By the time Vanector found out about me and made it here, the police had a warrant for her arrest. They found all kinds of evidence on her computer and database. There were fake death certificates, financial trails, even the names of the hunters who bought from her."

Sam stared, mouth agape. "So...where is she now?"

"Behind bars, most likely." Mariana said. "She's got so many charges of child neglect and abuse that they're saying she'll be locked away for anywhere from 10 to 50 years."

"What about Roosevelt?"

A bitter scowl spread across her face. "It's being shut down. Demolished, probably. Turned into something nice, like a mall or a school. People will forget everything that ever happened there. Forget the kids that _died _in those halls."

Sam was surprised to see angry tears in her eyes. She always seemed so gentle and meek, but there was a quiet fire in her that you wouldn't see unless you caught sight of it in small fleeting moments. Moments like when she refused to let Lily take the blame in Roosevelt, choosing to take the punishment herself than let a close friend suffer. Or when she had tricked Vanector in order to escape, though she risked extreme punishment if caught.

Sam remembered a night long ago, just after they'd escaped Roosevelt. Mariana had been suffering, and Sam had been concerned for her.

_I don't want her to die. _He'd told Lily.

_She isn't going to. _Lily had said fiercely. _She's a fighter. She'll make it. _

At the time, Sam had brushed off the comment. He'd thought that Mariana wasn't a fighter. She was kind, and gentle, and tender, and never seemed like the fighting type. But now, after knowing Mariana better, he could see that she was a fighter, in her own special way. She wasn't like Lily, who's words and actions were like spitfire, sparking often and quickly. She had a strength and fight that was all her own.

"People will never forget." Sam said. "We won't let them."

"What can we do, Sam?" Mariana asked desperately, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Nobody trusts us. They treat us like monsters!"

"We have to show them that we are more than that," Sam insisted. "Look, Dr. Neville was trying to do the right thing. He wanted to free psychics. Maybe for his own twisted reasons, but he still wanted to win us a better future. But if we want that future, we can't try to take it by force. We have to convince people that they were wrong about psychics." Sam frowned. "Where is Neville, anyway? And Pearson, for that matter?"

Mariana sniffed, brushing the tear from her cheek. "Neville's been arrested. He'll probably be put away as long as Vanector. Longer, considering he aided in an attempt to raise a demon. But Pearson…" Mariana looked up at Sam, apprehension in her eyes. "He got away. I heard John tell Mary that in all the confusion, Pearson just slipped away. Jake went with him. Willingly." She choked out the last word."

Sam felt his blood chill. "Pearson escaped?"

Mariana nodded. "And Jake, too."

"Wait...Jake just _left _with him? Did Pearson threaten him, or something?"

Mariana shook her head. "Nico's been by a few times to visit. He says that the others who were there just saw Jake run after Pearson. The police couldn't find him when they searched the rest of the basement."

"Why would he go?" Sam murmured, almost to himself.

"I think he was tired of this life." Mariana said softly. "Tired of being locked up, and hated, and judged. He saw someone trying to change things, even if it was the wrong things, and he wanted to do anything he could to help it along. Maybe he'll realize he made a mistake later."

"And maybe he won't," Sam finished solemnly.

* * *

Sam was able to go home two days later, and Mariana soon after him. He came home to a house full of kids. Sam laughed as Andrew and Nico charged past, Andrew clutching a football in his arms.

"Boys, take it outside!" Mary shouted.

"Sorry!" Andrew called back sheepishly, yelping when Nico crashed into him. Andrew shoved back, laughing. "Ansem, come outside!"

Ansem, reading on the couch, rolled his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, before dropping the book and jumping up after his brother. The three boys ran outside, pausing by the door only long enough for Mary to activate their trackers.

Sam walked into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table. Toby came bounding down the stairs, hopping over the last step. He looked up and gasped, spotting Sam sitting at the table.

"Sam!" He shouted, sprinting over. He skidded to a stop and wrapped his arms around the older boy. "You're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay," Sam laughed. "How are you?"

"Awesome!" Toby said excitedly. "Your mom makes the best sandwiches." He looked up at Mary. "Where's everyone else?"

"Nico, Andrew, and Ansem just went outside to play football, if you wanted to join them." She offered. "Other than that, the girls and Max are probably upstairs. John'll be here soon with Mariana."

Toby considered for a moment. "I think I'll go outside." He decided seriously, and ran for the door.

"Toby, slow down!" Mary laughed, hurrying to activate his tracker. The door slammed shut behind him, and Mary braced her hands on the counter, shaking her head good-naturedly. "That boy…"

Sam was still smiling. _Your mom makes the best sandwiches. _Toby had said. _Your mom…_

"So, how long are they going to be staying here?" Sam asked hopefully.

Mary smiled at Sam's eager expression, but her eyes were regretful. "I'm sorry, Sam. They won't be here for too much longer. The agency doesn't think it's appropriate to have nine psychics under one roof without proper security measures."

"But we have Bones!" Sam protested. "He's great security."

Right on cue, Bones came bounding through the door, barking happily. He jumped up, planting his paws on Sam's lap and reaching up to lick his face. Sam laughed, playfully pushing the dog away. He looked back at Mary, a troubled expression returning to his face.

"But where will they go?" He asked.

Mary turned away, avoiding Sam's eyes. She started putting away dishes in the sink. "Your father and I have been looking into some places. Charlie's been helping us." Seeing Sam's confused expression, she elaborated. "He helped Nico, Toby, and Mariana get here."

Sam nodded, saying nothing more. He looked up when he heard a noise in the hallway.

Max flinched when he met Sam's eyes. He averted his gaze to the floor, and skittered over to Mary. Max reached into the pantry next to her, pulling out a granola bar. He held it up questioningly. Mary smiled, and gently slid an arm around Max's shoulders.

"Sure, sweetie," Mary said kindly. "You can have it."

Max slipped away silently, and darted back up the stairs. Moments later, Sam heard a door close upstairs. He turned back to Mary.

"Is he...okay?"

Mary sighed, her shoulders dropping. "It's called selective mutism. It's common in children after a traumatic experience, especially one where they have little to no control. The doctors say he'll be alright eventually. He just needs time."

"I think we all do," Sam muttered. Mary looked up with a sympathetic smile on her face.

* * *

The car rumbled under Sam's feet. The window was rolled down, cool air rushing into his face. Sam couldn't help but smile, feeling the speed of the Impala racing down the interstate. Dean was blasting ACDC from the speakers, and Lily and Nico sat in the back, laughing at Dean's ridiculous dancing while he drove. John drove the rest of the children, along with Mary, in the car behind Dean.

"She's amazing," Sam commented blissfully, keeping his eyes shut.

"Isn't she?" Dean agreed, patting the wheel. "You're beautiful, baby," He crooned to the dashboard, stroking it lovingly.

"I'm sorry, do you two need to be alone with this thing for a while?" Lily spoke up from the back, sounding playfully irritated.

Dean scoffed. "Girl, _this thing _is a pristine, aerodynamic work of art that could pay all of our college tuitions ten times over on the market. Not only that, but she's helped my dad through some messy hunts. Show a little respect."

"I just don't get cars." Lily said, flipping her hair. "It's a guy thing."

Nico looked over from where he was sitting next to her in the backseat. "For the record, I know next to nothing about cars."

"Don't worry, Dean has that department covered pretty well," Sam joked. "He's obsessed."

"Obsessed is such a strong word, Sammy," Dean protested. "I just happen to have an interest in cars."

"More like an infatuation," Lily said, one eyebrow raised coyly.

"You-" Dean twisted, reaching back to smack her with his hand, while trying to keep his focus on the road ahead. Nico objected, calling to Sam to get Dean to look back at the road.

Sam was preoccupied, frozen by something Dean had said. He felt a chill wash down his back.

_Obsessed is such a strong word, Sammy. _

Dean's kind, jesting voice deepened. It sharpened, taking on a sinister edge. The words were full of malice and trickery, with a cold detachment that chilled Sam to the bone.

_Banished is such a strong word, Sammy. _

Sam hadn't heard from Azazel since that night. He had chosen not to tell any of the Winchesters about his experience. Azazel hadn't reared his head since then, and there was no point in worrying them for nothing. Besides, Sam was hoping that if he ignored it, it would be like it never happened.

Dean's cell phone rang in the glovebox next to him, and Sam picked it up, checking the screen. John's number shone up at him, so he hit accept and pressed it to his ear.

"_Dean?" _

"This is Sam," Sam said apologetically. "Dean is…" He looked at the older boy, still insistently swatting at Lily. The car jerked as Dean swerved too close to the edge of the road. "...occupied at the moment."

John sighed over the phone. _"Tell him to turn at the next exit, alright? Exit 54." _

"54," Sam repeated. "Got it."

"_And Sam? Don't let Dean drive you all off the road. Thank God we have at least one level head in there." _

Sam smiled. "Sure thing." He hung up the phone and relayed the information to Dean.

"So, where exactly are we going?" Lily asked, and Dean finally straightened in his seat. "All your parents would tell us is that we'd be staying there."

Dean looked back in the rearview mirror. Sam glanced back at Lily and saw the tight fear in her eyes. She was trying to conceal it, but he could tell that she was afraid. Nico stared out the window, avoiding Sam's gaze, but his clenched fist revealed that he felt the same way.

"It's safe." Dean said. "Charlie recommended it. He said it's pretty new, and it isn't run by the government."

"But it's a camp, right?" Nico said flatly.

"Technically, yes." Dean admitted with a shrug. "But it's supposed to be really good. Like a giant Care Home with other psychics."

"Right," Lily scoffed, crossing her arms. "Because all of our Care Homes have been so great."

"Just give it a chance." Dean compromised. "It won't be any better anywhere else."

Lily fell silent, looking out the window. Sam turned his gaze back out to the road ahead, watching trees pass by silently.

_It isn't better anywhere else now. _He thought to himself. _But maybe someday. _

* * *

Sam stared out of the window with wide eyes as the Impala drove along the dirt path. Trees lined the road on either side of them, tall and imposing. He could see a sign up ahead, the message still indecipherable.

As they came closer, the words were brought to focus. Sam scooted forward in his seat, craning his neck to read the words as they drove under the giant sign, elevated on two wooden posts. The sign looked new, made of freshly painted wood. The words were blocky and colored green, covering a majority of the sign.

_Camp Freewing_

A variety of colors decorated the lower base of the two poles. After a moment, Sam realized they were all handprints. Some as small as the palm of Sam's hand, and others as large as John's.

The road went on for another fifty feet, and finally the treeline broke into a large field. Wooden cabins were scattered along the large space, along with a volleyball pit, garden, and basketball court. An assortment of children were walking along paths, wearing identical bright green shirts. They froze when they spotted the cars, watching with rapt interest.

Dean pulled the Impala into a gravel parking lot, and John parked next to him. Sam stared out at the vast expanse, not daring to believe it. Dean stepped out of the car, and Sam followed after a moment. Sam walked around the car, standing next to Dean. Nico and Lily joined them, looking out at the green fields.

John stepped out, Mary and the rest of the children following them. Max clung to Ava's side, huddling under her arm with a terrified expression. Ava kept a protective arm wrapped around him, staring suspiciously at the scattered cabins.

Ansem and Andrew stood side by side, Scott joining them and looking out nervously at the fields. Toby scurried over to Lily and Nico, pulling Mariana alongside him. He stopped for a moment beside the three, following their gazes. Suddenly, Toby began talking with a burst, as though he'd been waiting the whole car ride.

"Mary said this place was really neat and she said that we could probably all get a room together and they wouldn't really care about it, even though I don't think that's usually allowed, but maybe if Mary asked them for us, cause she's an adult and usually adults listen to adults, but not always to kids, cause they don't think-_hmmph." _Toby cut off when Mariana pressed a hand over his mouth.

"He talks a lot when he's nervous." Mariana comment dryly.

Toby peeled her hand away. "Do not."

"Do, too." Nico and Lily said in unison.

Sam's attention was drawn away from the scene by the sound of a creaking door. He glanced up at the closest and largest cabin. A man was walking down the path toward them, head held high. He was too far away for Sam to make out any distinguishing features, but there was a certain confidence and calm that emanated from the man that instantly seemed to put Sam at ease.

Mary and John looked back at the group of children, an encouraging smile on their face that didn't quite reach their anxious eyes. They started forward, waving the children along with them. For a moment, no one moved, even Dean standing frozen.

Sam swallowed, and stepped forward, leading them on. In an odd way, he felt that he'd lead this group into this whole mess. He should lead them out, even if he wasn't going to stay.

As Sam walked toward the man, his sense of ease strengthened. He felt calm, at peace, and at the same time, a certain intimidation that was hard to place. It was like he was staring into the face of a raging thunderstorm, too far away to fear, but close enough to feel the thrill of it.

The man was an average height, short brown hair swept to one side, and decent, if not downright handsome, features. His expression was serious, and his eyes held no humor. He wore a long trenchcoat over an unbuttoned suit, and Sam wondered vaguely if he was overheating in the warm weather.

They stopped a foot away from the man, and Sam peered closer at his face. The man turned his stony gaze to meet Sam's eyes, and for a moment, his ice blue eyes seemed to pierce Sam to the core. Sam shivered, reminded of Dr. Neville's eyes. But then the flash was gone, and the ice was replaced with a clear blue that was more kind than calculating.

"My name is Castiel." The man spoke in a quiet tone, but his voice seemed to carry around the group. "I run this camp."

Mary smiled, stepping forward. "My name is Mary, and this is John." Castiel nodded at the two of them, not offering his hand in greeting. He looked at the group of children. Mary followed his gaze.

"These are…" She trailed off, unsure of herself for a moment.

"Psychics." Castiel continued in an even voice. "Very strong ones, I can see."

"Yes." Mary agreed. "Someone told us that this was a good place for them to stay."

Castiel didn't respond, looking over the group with his perceptive eyes. His gaze settled on Ansem, who fixed his eyes on the ground.

"You worry about your brother." He stated in a cool voice. "You wonder if he has forgiven you for your betrayal."

Ansem's head snapped up, his face flushing red. "What?"

"You need not worry," Castiel continued evenly. "He has healed from his experience, and harbors no ill will toward you."

"How do you know that?" Andrew asked in a suspicious voice, edging next to his brother.

Castiel offered a small smile, and for a moment, thunder rumbled in the cloudless sky. The fields darkened, and lightning flashed, illuminating the shapes of two ragged wings behind the man.

"I have my ways." Castiel said cryptically when the darkness faded.

The children stumbled back a step, stunned, but Sam held his ground. He could tell there was nothing to fear from this man.

"You're an angel, aren't you?" He asked, filling the silence.

Castiel turned to look at him, and his eyes once again penetrated deep inside Sam's soul. He felt as if the angel could see every flaw, every mistake, every perfection, and every success. For a moment, Sam felt something inside of him lurch away from the angel's gaze, as if trying to hide itself. The angel's eyes tightened minisculely, and he nodded, answering Sam's question.

"Yes, I am." He looked again at the rest of the children. "And this can be your home, if you choose for it to be so."

The children all exchanged glances, and Lily spoke up, taking a small step forward. "I think I speak for all of us when I say that we would _totally_ choose to stay here."

Castiel nodded. "Say your goodbyes, and I will show you to your living quarters."

"So sudden?" Mary questioned, and Sam could see tears shining in her eyes. "Could we… go with them to see their rooms? Maybe eat a meal?"

The angel shook his head. "It is best to have a clean break. They will be allowed to call, but for now, they must have time to adjust."

Mary nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes, and she pulled a few of the kids into hugs. Toby quickly ran over and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. Mary laughed, embracing him tightly. She squeezed Ava and Max, and Ansem even allowed her to brush a hand over his hair.

Sam felt someone pull him into a tight embrace, and he started to hear Lily's shaky breathing in his ear. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back tightly.

"You're got a good thing with these Winchesters, squirt." Lily whispered. "Don't screw it up."

"I won't." Sam promised. "Take care of yourself. Stay out of trouble."

"I'm more worried about you." Lily said with a slight laugh. "You're kind of a magnet for trouble."

"It's okay." Sam smiled. "I have Dean. I'll be fine."

Lily pulled back, looking in her friend's eyes. "Yeah, you will, Sammy. You'll be just fine."

Nico nodded to Sam, who returned the gesture, and walked over to Mariana. Sam watched as he offered her his hand, and she smiled bashfully, blushing furiously, before tenderly accepting. The nine children started walking up the path toward the large cabin, waving back at the Winchesters happily.

"Sam, could I have a word with you?" Castiel asked quietly. Startled, Sam nodded, and followed the angel a few yards away.

"The darkness has not left you." Castiel said once they were out of earshot. "It might seem like it has left you, but it is merely dormant, waiting for a chance to emerge again. You might have hindered Azazel's progress, but he will grow stronger again."

His words stole the air from Sam's chest. He found it hard to breathe for a moment. His worst fears, spoken out loud with such certainty, filled him with a dread that was hard to comprehend.

"You have many difficult battles ahead of you, Sam." Castiel continued. "The road for you will be long, and has barely begun. You will face challenges, make choices, confront sacrifice, pain, and loss. But there is a chance of triumph, if you can make it to the end."

Castiel fixed his intense gaze on Sam. "You have a strength in you that will overcome evil, if you can believe in it, and your abilities. It will not be easy, and there will be many times that you will nearly fail. However, you will always prevail if you remember evil's constant weakness."

"Which is?" Sam prompted.

"Evil knows no such thing as family, or love, or loyalty. It knows only greed, and anger, and hatred. Family will be your advantage, Sam. Use it, and remember that family is a gift, and love the most powerful weapon you will ever possess."

Sam looked over at his family. His family. John, his father, who knew when to support him, and always encouraged him to be strong. Mary, his mother, who was always there with tender arms, and loving words, to comfort him in his darkest times. And Dean, who never lost faith, who came back for him even when Sam gave him reason to walk away. Dean, who didn't care what Sam was, or what people thought of him. Dean, who saw the person that Sam was, not the person that people thought he was, or wanted him to be.

Sam turned back to Castiel. "I know." He said. He knew how powerful love could be. It had completely transformed his life. Castiel nodded, understanding without another word. He turned and walked to the other children, leading them up to the cabin, and to their new lives.

Sam walked back to the Winchesters. Dean immediately swarmed him.

"What did he want?" He asked anxiously.

"Just wanted to know if I'd be staying, too." Sam lied easily. He didn't want to tell the Winchesters about Azazel. About the fact that he might not be as gone as they'd thought. About the fact that he might come back. He'd tell them eventually. Just not today.

"You're definitely staying." Mary said with a smile, and planted a kiss on Sam's forehead. Sam ducked away, blushing, but a smile bloomed across his face. Mary laughed, and pulled John to their second car.

Dean walked over to the driver's side of the Impala, sliding into the seat. Sam walked around to the passenger side, and paused to get a look at the setting sun, just beginning to dip beneath the treeline.

_**I'll find you again eventually. **_

_Maybe you will. _Sam thought, surprised that the thought brought no fear. _But when you do, I won't just be Sam, an orphan wanted by no one, a psychic hated by everyone. I'll be a Winchester, loved by my family, and strengthened by their support. And you will not find it so easy to break me. _

"Ready to go home, Sammy?" Dean asked, looking up at him.

Sam looked down. The cool evening air blew through his hair, and the endless beat of ACDC came from the stereo. This family, this life was his. And he was ready to live it.

"Yeah, Dean. Let's go home."


End file.
